Path of Kirschtein
by Bast13
Summary: In the alternate timeline where the Colossal Titan never appeared and Wall Maria never fell, Jean Kirschtein has finally realised his dream to join the Military Police, and it's every bit as corrupt as he thought it would be, expect for one thing: Marco Bott. Jean doesn't think it's funny when they become partners and if he knew where it led he might have decided on another path.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone and welcome to: The Path of Kirschtein!**

 **As a small warning there may be some naming errors (which comes from the large array of spellings to choose from) and some slight OOCness which is inevitable because of the alternate timeline thing.**

 **Now that's out of the way, I really hope you enjoy my first Attack On Titan fic! :D**

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On the bank of the glossy river running through Stohess one young man and woman wearing Military Police uniform leant against a pale stone fountain, one smiling in the aftermath of her own joke but the other squinted contemptibly around the bright city as if it had personally offended him. Sapphire water trickled around them as the canal boats' wakes or the circular decoration behind them. It mirrored the cloudless sky above them which made the lines of mulberry tile stick out even more drastically.

Like almost all the cities of the world they knew, the houses within Stohess were tightly packed yet the architecture showed the signs of added finesse, more care, than what either of the MPs knew. Among the terraced houses, spires jutted out randomly in sign of an important building while a vast dome capped a Wall Worshiper's church. It was beautiful and grand and as elaborate as you'd expect from a city within the interior.

The ash-haired boy stood with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in particular at the girl to his right. The blonde's hair was ruffled up and she was pushing her body out suggestively while she flirted with two civilians, much to the other's irritation.

Hoards of citizens shuffled by them; a oddly dressed man carrying a baby, a ugly, sly woman who seemed intent on starting a fight, a very tall, nervous old woman clad in three heavy necklaces pushing her way through the crowd, and a well-built, distraught man being chased by a guard. The last example drew their eyes. A sour face turned cool as he watched with particular amusement.

The stouter of the men watched tentatively. He moved, faltered, and looked back to check on the other. "Shouldn't you go over and help them?" he wondered but his face showed he knew what the MPs' responses would be.

The running man stumbled over one of the many bridges and the MP started calling out in frustration, clutching his own rifle and biting his lip. A pair of cynical brown eyes followed the runner but their owner remained where he was. He only moved to rest his chin on his fist so he could continue watching the display from a more comfortable position.

"Come on, guys. I think he wants us to help him," the stout one continued.

Jean smirked just as a large clattering exploded through the everyday murmuring. A broad frame had crashed into one of stalls.

"I think he's got it covered."

Finally he prodded his taller friend, gesturing to the clock tower and pulling a face. The tall man rolled his eyes and winked. "See ya around, kid." He got to his feet and strolled away, swaggering slightly. Jean watched them leave, relieved for the reprieve.

"Jeeean!" she called playfully, finally knocking him out of his fifteen minute daze. She cocked her head backwards and grinned lazily. She reminded Jean of a cat, and not the type someone would enjoy as a pet.

"Dreyse," he returned curtly.

Hitch Dreyse giggled cawingly then pouted. "Aw, is that all you've got to say. Is _wickle Marcy_ finally getting to you? Are you too scared now to hang out with the cool kids, worried we're going to rub off on you or something?"

Jean didn't reply verbally, he merely tried to remain neutral. Hitch annoyed him to but they at least had a common trait. Neither of them cared for the self-righteous bullcrap the others spouted and could at least admit they had selfish intentions. Jean knew others looked down on that mentality but as always, he'd chose survival over whatever the Scouting Regiment were doing. This meant that he never felt like he could hate Hitch but it didn't mean he actually liked her either.

Hitch beamed. "Now come and sit with me already!" She tugged on the hem of his jacket and tried to pull him down onto the fountain stone. There was no point in arguing by that point so Jean relented and sat down on the white brick staircase.

"So how _is_ sentry with Marcy, you enjoying it?"

Jean shrugged noncommittally. "At least I can take a break off with you lot. Marco's been as usual, prattling on about the 'good inside everyone' or some bullcrap like that."

"Of course he did. Do you think he's one of those guys trying to get the MPs to change to the Scouts? Jeez, it's like people are _trying_ to get us to kill ourselves." She hefted her rifle. "There's, like, no point to it but I would definitely shoot myself instead of letting a titan get its hands all over me." Hitch paused and smirked conspiratorially. "Do you know what?"

"What is it?"

"I think that the titans are all dead by now."

"What in the world makes you say that?"

Hitch inspected her nails, faking a casual air. "Come on, Jean. No-one's seen a titan in forever; no-one but the Scouting Losers, I mean. Do you really think that something _that_ size could live all this time without food?"

Jean considered it, but couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. A world without titans, a world outside the wall, it had always been the fantasies of children to Jean. Something for idiots like _them_ to dream about but not him. He wanted the interior because he knew he wouldn't have to bother himself with them.

"No-one's got any proof," he said plainly. "I think it's stupid to think that the titans are gone. It's nothing but wishful thinking."

She pursed her lips again and feigned hurt. "That's just mean." She giggled and broke the pointless façade. "But I wouldn't expect anything else from one of the Southern Districts. Trost, right? You're all so gullible down there, believing every little thing about all the big, mean titans."

Jean scowled and suddenly wished to change the topic. "Where's Marlowe anyway?" His smile crept back and he adapted a more mocking tone to fit in better with Hitch's. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was trying to break into jail to lecture all the prisoners."

Hitch laughed again and Jean avoided wrinkling his nose at the sound. "Hah! Yeah, yeah, he'd be all like," she lowered her voice and warbled in imitation of Marlowe, "' _Don't you know that crime is, like, a crime and you should feel totally bad about it!_ '"

"Brilliant impersonation, Hitch," Jean deadpanned. She grinned again in reply.

"I know." Hitch's head twitched in the manner of a hunting animal and a smirk wormed its way across her face. "And speak of the devil."

Marlowe was looking very frustrated but he was never able to express that emotion as intimidatingly as he thought he could. He puffed out his cheeks, frowned, and furrowed his eyebrows. If you combined that with his ridiculous bowl haircut then it gave Hitch even more reason to burst out laughing like she did.

She bent over, kicking her legs, and gasped, her breath stolen with mirth that seemed exaggerated. "Oh, Marlowe! You really crack me up with all your seriousness!"

He was not as amused as Jean or Hitch. Jean smirked at Marlowe's indignant expression, something that consisted of him balling up his face which make him as threatening as a rabbit tripping over its own ears.

"What got stuck up your butt this week?" he called, sneering.

Marlowe brandished his finger and jabbed it in the air in front of the two lighter-haired MPs. "You! And you!" he said in a grand manner, pausing for drama.

Jean arched an eyebrow at him. "You can finish that sentence or you can, y'know, shut up, Freudenberg."

He inhaled deeply and his eyes bulged to the further entertainment of Hitch. Marlowe tried to ignore her screeching but it had been clear from day one that he wasn't the type to take anything in his stride.

"I know for a fact that you have not done a thing today despite our orders!" He waved around a sheet of paper: the list of tasks the higher-ups delegated each day.

"Marlowe, how long will it take you to realise that no-one gives a crap about that? It's only you and that loser Marco over there," Hitch sneered. "Get a life already."

Marlowe swelled up and turned on Jean. Jean stared down the index finger of disapproval, raising his eyebrow again and waiting for whatever idiocy would leave Marlowe's mouth next.

"And you! How dare you act so nonchalant after your persistent tardiness? How dare you call yourself a member of the Military Police and continue to act so…so… _lazily_!?Now listen. The commander wants us all to..."

Marlowe stopped as Jean got to his feet, his blood pulsing. Jean's balled-up hands twitched in anger and the brunette's anger bubbled under the skin. It was only a few triggers away from erupting but unfortunately Marlowe wasn't as good as reading Jean as Marco was.

Jean seized the soldier's outstretched forearm and pulled it away without much resistance. Marlowe stared and struggled yet it didn't make any difference to Jean. He pierced the other teenager with his glare and finally frightened him into submission.

"Listen. Up. No-one," Jean tightened his grip so his nails dug into the skin, "cares what you think! So shut the hell up!" He shoved him and sent Marlowe sprawling across the stone road. The young MP grimaced and groaned and Jean revelled in it. "Maybe it'll sink in," he spat.

"Ow!" Marlowe moaned while he massaged his paining arm. Jean ignored him.

"Wow, Jeany," Hitch purred. Jean ignored her too. He didn't want _her_ praise. Instead, he reached out for his rifle and slung it back over his shoulder. Jean stormed off without a word, not feeling the need to explain himself to them.

The Military Police was the plush life, but it was not an easy one. Then again, Jean doubted that anyone inside Walls Maria, Wall Rose, or Wall Sina could really say their life wasn't difficult. It was one of those days where he was just sick of Stohess, sick of everything. Was there a place where he could get away from everyone? As a member of the Military Police, Jean had settled quite comfortably into the plushness of corruption and sloth of interior life. He wanted the safe life and thought that after all his effort he rightly deserved it. Admittedly he hadn't been first, in fact he'd been designated _sixth_ best in his squad, but they were only numbers at this point. Jean hadn't thrown his life away like some of the bastards he'd trained with so he was feeling happy. Not that you'd see it on his face.

On normal days it was easy to tune everyone out. Hell, he would even join in on some days but today...

It was easy patrolling the city and not giving a crap about any of the people inside it, the only problem were the _others_. Jean considered Hitch's name to be a letter off from her true description and it was bad having to face the overly righteous pricks like Marlowe at Headquarters but then there was Marco Bott.

"Dammit," Jean muttered. The city was bustling as usual so the search for an empty space to get away from it all was failing. Midday invited more and more people to come out to annoy Jean with their average mumbles and regular havoc. He passed building after building, alley after alley. He supposed that the cracks in the terraces would be quiet but he also knew that the shadows of any city would not welcome anyone clad in the uniform of a Military Police member, unless they were selling them something of course.

His eyes danced around, scanning constantly, until he finally found what looked like a reprise. It was a dark stairway to nowhere. Jean approached tentatively, bracing in the case of someone waiting in ambush. As he peered down into the black, Jean noticed it was all clogged up with boulders, the remnants of construction perhaps? In hindsight he didn't care.

Jean was happy to lie down there. The noon air was lukewarm even in the shade so it was pretty comfortable, much to his surprise. It wasn't silent. Nothing in Stohess was completely silent, yet he felt the heat charging his emotions die down in the peace. He muttered swears at curses at all the irritating faces swimming around in his vision. He waved his hand in front of his face absently but didn't the images didn't clear. He sighed. Today would be one of those days his mum always talked about.

"Maybe I can at least get some sleep," Jean said to no-one especially. He closed his eyes and expected to drift off when he could. He wasn't a heavy sleeper so he could easily wake up before his absence would cause any real messes.

The high sun made no impact on the darkness he soon found himself in. He readjusted, shuffled, and pushed his rifle back off its strap and finally relaxed. Well, he relaxed as much as he could. Jean thought that moment there was better than anything he would get at Headquarters, where all the other MPs loomed like vultures, waiting to annoy him. They were all either as corrupt as him or as 'nice' as Marco. Neither of them were good options but there never seemed to be any middle ground.

It had been only a fortnight. Only two weeks of the Military Police. Jean still wasn't sure whether he preferred it to training yet but he expected it would get better. He was at least allowed to stop and rest here in the city, and that's what Jean intended to do.

Sadly, there were other plans at work.

"Jean?"

Jean lifted his hand to his face and sighed. "What is it, Marco?"

"Marlowe told me you'd disappeared so I wanted to know if you were okay."

" _Bloody Marlowe_ ," Jean hissed to himself, and then to Marco he said, "Yeah, and?"

Marco smiled. "Are you?"

The warm light broke around Marco, making him appear to glow as he cast a shadow into the dark enclosure Jean was lying in. The taller MP pushed himself upright; he felt too much like a child when he was lying down under Marco like he was.

"I'm sick of all of you," he replied with sharp honesty.

Marco shifted his weight cautiously. "I'm sorry, Jean." He stepped forwards into the small space and flopped down onto the white stone. Marco leant forwards as smiled down at Jean from the higher, sunbathed ground. "What it what I said earlier? I didn't really mean for it to be…"

"Shut up," Jean said lazily. "You didn't do anything. It's Boris, Marlowe, Hitch, and the others. I'm tired and I don't want to have to deal with them, understand?"

Jean nodded absent-mindedly and turned away as Marco glanced around, looking for something else to talk about.

Whenever Jean had to look at his speckled, ever-smiling face he always felt a spike of annoyance stab at him internally. It wasn't even his stupid morals that irritated Jean the most, even though that was still a large factor, it was his stupid naivety. He _honestly_ wanted to serve the king and all sorts of crap like that. However, despite everything that annoyed Jean about Marco, the former couldn't help but like Marco. He was always kind in a way that was creepy and unnatural but, then again, it meant he was always kind.

They were always officially stationed together just because Jean had opened his trap in front one of the so-called commanders. It had been eternal torment and Jean knew whenever he returned with a deeper scowl than normal they would laugh as if it was funny. Still, they'd known each other for too long so he'd already had a head start on chipping away Jean's defences. Jean's attitude varied drastically when it came to his black-haired comrade.

"...right, Jean?" Marco had apparently been talking. Jean had woken up in a poor mood after Boris, Hitch and all 'forgot' to wake him up so he had no patience left to spare.

The brunette straightened up and stared into the other's eyes mercilessly. "Marco, I honestly don't give a crap. Why don't you just go hang out with Marlowe or something? I'm done for the day."

"But it's barely midday."

"Don't care."

Jean was already aware that the young MP didn't approve of what he was doing and Jean didn't really understand why. There was no point in joining the military for anything other than the lax life of an MP. The Garrison Regiment were glorified sitters and the Scout Regiment were out to risk their necks for no reason. Wall Sina was _much_ better for Jean than either Rose or Maria.

The tips of Marco's lips were downturned, probably the closest he could get to a frown. "I'm sorry, Jean. I just think that you'd want to do something nice, or something useful, now you finally got what you want. Surely you can't want to laze around _all_ day."

Just to prove him wrong, Jean leant further back against the fountain. He smiled quite nastily. "Cut the crap, Marco. You're no nobler than the rest of us. You're looking for the cushy life like every other MP."

Marco's eyes fogged over and he looked away. Jean didn't hide his groan. He knew what that expression meant.

"Save it, Mar..." he began but Marco wasn't taking it today.

"I don't think you're as selfish as you pretend to be, Jean."

Jean started to roll his eyes but once again Marco cut him off.

"And I think it's dumb that you want to be seen like that. I know you have the talent to change things around here: I saw that in training and, you know what? I've seen it recently as well."

The brunette stared. His mouth was open but wordless. After so much babble, he was still saying something Jean didn't understand, but now it was a different type of incomprehension.

Eventually he managed to force out a laugh. "Me. Change things? You're even more screwed in the head than I thought, Marco. One day you'll learn that, around here, idealists tend to get beaten down."

But his expression didn't catch up to his voice's snark. It was odd for Marco to say something like that after nothing but unkindness on Jean's part. Marco seemed to understand Jean's confusion even more than Jean himself did. The freckled MP was quiet and knowing, looking content.

"Anyway. I was wondering whether you'd heard of the Titan Show next month."

"The what?"

"The Titan Show. Apparently they need some of us to go down to Wall Maria in order to help out with security."

Jean sighed. "No, Marco. I meant what the hell is a 'Titan Show'. It's sounds stupid to me."

Marco shrugged and gazed towards the poster he'd spotted. Jean readjusted himself and craned his neck to steal a glimpse at it. There was large black writing over the Scouting Regiment's emblem and what seemed to be an imitation of a Scout wielding his blades. Jean doubted it was intentional but amused himself at the image of a man hacking at the so-called 'Wings of Freedom'.

"No-one, well, no citizen has seen a titan in over a hundred years; I think it's even a hundred and five by now. From what I've heard it was Commander Erwin's idea. They want to show off all they've learnt so they're bringing some titans near the wall to..." Marco didn't sound too enthusiastic about the idea. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and made the second attempt at finishing his sentence.

"To kill the titans in front of the crowd."

Jean barked a laugh. "That's ridiculous! Baiting the titans? That can only end in disaster."

The freckled MP chuckled quietly like he was forcing it for Jean's sake, a pretty pointless endeavour. "Yeah...But that's why they're asking for so many soldiers to come out and help. It sounds like all three regiments are going to be security and even after that, I think the public's going to be behind the wall anyway. They'll manage it. I know they will."

"That sure is reassuring. I think I'll pass, Marco. I'd rather stay here than go anywhere near Wall Maria. Plus, if the Scouts are involved, there's the chance I'll run into _them_."

"Really?" Marco's voice was disappointed although he still refused to drop his small beam. "I thought it would be fun to see Sasha, Eren, and Mikasa again."

"Sh-Shut up." Jean clenched his fists and tried to avoid Marco's deep brown eyes. His eyes were always searching strangely yet it never occurred to Jean that it was out of curiosity or malicious intent. His face was burning against his will and he quickly made to escape his sight. Marco just wanted to understand him, something that was quite of the question then and there.

Jean clambered out of the stairwell and glanced around, imitating Marco's search for another topic to distract the two of them. "I'm going off. It looks like I'll never get that sleep so might as well do something," Jean mumbled.

Marco sprang to his feet and adjusted the strap of his rifle so it wouldn't stick out. Jean knew that Marco liked to hide it at the best of times but there was seldom an opportunity when they were on a patrol. He was nothing but another MP to every citizen whose eyes happened to flicker his way. Jean was fine being another member of a corrupt organisation but he couldn't help but feel Marco deserved to be seen as more than that. Not that there was anything Jean could do about it.

"Marco, I'm going..."

He was interrupted by a thick, strident sound: a short scream that came almost as soon as it went. Both heads snapped to the shriek's direction like magnets to metal. Marco's expression fell with abrupt certainty. He became so pale and worried-looking that the happiness might have literally drained from face.

Jean clenched his fists and jaw. He grinded his teeth in apprehension and his eyes danced around the barren street, wasting no time. The sound came from the south but all he saw was a wall of houses, not letting away any obvious path, until he spotted the narrow crack.

"The alley," he announced. Jean didn't need to supply any extra context. Marco locked his eyes on the place in question and started to run. Jean followed after only the briefest moment of hesitation.

Their boots clapped loudly on the ground, throwing more noise into the collage of city noise. Doors flew past Jean's view but he saw nothing but Marco who sprinted onwards, determined.

"Hello?" he called out loudly, listening out intently for an answer. "Who's there?"

The two MPs gradually petered out and slowed to a brisk jog. Jean cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted but neither of them had had a single response since hearing the first cry. "If you wanted help..." Jean muttered open-endedly as they ran, then his eyes widened.

Jean's hand snapped out and he seized Marco's shoulder, stopping him from colliding face-first with the cobblestone beneath their feet. Marco lurched and waved his arms but thanks to Jean anchoring him, he managed to keep upright.

Jean let go and Marco straightened himself, flashing his friend a grateful expression. Jean's intelligent eyes travelled past that and had already begun to inspect the ground around him. It didn't take him long to locate the object that had snagged Marco's foot since it lay alone on the otherwise clean bricks.

He crouched low and picked the fist-sized plum bag. It was heavier than he'd expected but that weight drastically diminished as coin spilled out like a clattering waterfall so dulled gold could splash out. Jean quickly scooped the coins back into the bags and pulled on the thin rope, trapping the metal inside once again.

"This must have been a robbery," Marco concluded. He bobbed up and down on the balls on his heels, having found no-one around.

"Hmmm." Jean twirled the bag around and listened to the sound of money jingle inside. He smirked. "There's no-one around. How about we just keep it?"

Jean raised his hand before Marco could even open his mouth. "Jeez, Marco. You know what I meant."

Marco's lips tightened. "Okay, Jean. But we really should return it as soon as we can. I think it's best if we just hand it back to Headquarters."

Jean scoffed. "Yeah, so then _they_ can steal it. It can go full circle." His voice was embedded with the combined sarcasm of years' practice.

"Then what would you do with it?"

He stopped twirling the bag and halted while he mulled things over until they rolled out as a groan. "Urgh. Fine. I guess they'd have to give it over if someone reports it. You coming?"

They'd ended up in an area bathed in shadows thanks to the tall buildings reaching upwards on both sides. It was difficult to locate any of the landmarks in town because of it so the two of them could consider themselves lost if not for the fact that there were only two ways to go.

Jean decided to continue going on. The two strolled forwards while Jean plastered a smirk across his face. He wondered what it was like for all the wealthy in Wall Sina, the ones who'd been assured of their lives from the day they were born. The ones who hadn't been forced to spend three years training as a soldier to stay here.

It was almost an alien thought to Jean. Although, if he was truly earnest, he wouldn't have sacrificed his life in Trost or his mum.

"Please, don't!" Jean heard Marco say to his side.

Jean drew to a standstill and stared at the building tops above shining with the sun they blocked. "What is it, Marco?" he wondered lazily, not really paying attention. He wasn't even sure what Marco wanted him to stop.

"Please!" Marco repeated, now standing behind Jean after stopping before the latter. Jean's forehead creased in confusion so he turned his head.

"Marco, what..?" It wasn't a loud sound but the wet sheathe gurgled in his ears and chilled his insides to ice.

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 **Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and I would love if you review it with your thoughts on the series and how I can improve; this is for _you_ after all! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

Jean's head turned with the speed of a slug, fighting desperately through an air like molten lead: confining and unbreathable. It cruelly forced Jean to watch, making him powerless to react as the knife ripped out. Deep red splashed around it and fell to the floor, consuming his vision and filling his sight like a swarm. A flash of dark green. A flash of dark brown. After they disappeared there was nothing left to prevent Jean from seeing nothing but the scene.

They both collapsed. Mechanical grips reached out and tightened around Marco's shoulders but he didn't move. His face was shuddering, and pale, and cheerless. Blank eyes stared into nothingness, only finding that single answer. Jean pulled Marco closer. Everything was red. His tears, invisible to him, were hot and pooling down into the growing sea beneath them. Jean refused to believe what he was seeing. It wasn't true. It _wouldn't_ be true.

"Don't you _dare_ die on me!" The words were not soft or comforting. They were as jagged and forceful: an imitation of their old instructor's fierce tone. Marco quivered yet Jean only shouted louder and gripped him harder.

"DON'T DIE! DON'T DIE, MARCO!DON'T _GO!_ " His scream trailed off and pitched into an immense, hoarse sadness unable to be heard by human ears. It reached a point where he was making no noise but the undeniable shriek had contorted every part of his face.

Jean was utterly, completely powerless. He could not stop the light fading from Marco's eyes. No matter how determined someone was, they could not take hold of the intangible. Marco's eyes dimmed and dimmed and no matter how much Jean yelled at him, _screamed_ at him not to, the brightness disappeared altogether.

The stone below them was drenched and muggy, dyed a sickly crimson. If Jean had been physically able to wrench his eyes away he would have seen the stained knife laying a mere metre away from them, abandoned by its owner.

Fleeting life showed signs in Marco's rare heartbeat and bated breath but the space between them lengthened with each pulse. His hand rested on his stomach and his expression was screwed up in pain. The MP's lips were ajar with the ghost of his last words. _Please_. Jean couldn't look past him. His eyes were wide and blurred with water yet that didn't stop the image from branding itself into Jean's mind.

He stared, he did not know for how long, but he couldn't turn away. Marco's face was alien to him. It was not his, yet Jean could not move. For a countless amount of time he was petrified. Marco's heartbeat had been driving the life from him. Now it had finally completed its task. Now, Jean was alone. He was all alone...

"Oh, no...No, no, no!"

Voices gradually came but the choking fog surrounding Jean, blocking his throat and clouding his eyes, enveloped Jean and did not lessen. They could have been civilians or military, male or female, but Jean couldn't hear. The voices bled into each other and fused with the denseness until the buzzing finally blocked out everything.

There was a sharp crack and Jean stumbled. His hand shot to his paining face and he clutched the wide red mark now blemishing his cheek.

"What the hell!?" he shouted, but then Jean started to notice where exactly he was. For one thing, he was staring into Marlowe's eyes. They were puffy and dripping with tears and Marlowe himself was shaking under the force of his breaths.

"J-Jean! Snap out of it!" Marlowe cried, quivering at his own fierceness.

Every muscle in Jean's body locked again. That was the wrong thing to say. For a fleeting moment of joyous rage he had forgotten. That precious time had dissolved like salt in water.

The others sensed his relapse. Marlowe raised his hand like before, still shivering, but this time Boris caught it.

"You can't! He's been through enough already, Marlowe!" The choking emotion in Boris' voice would have touched Jean if only the latter could have heard him. The cloud was returning wisp by wisp and clouding his brain once more.

"I need to know what happened. I deserve to know!" Marlowe stared into Boris' eyes imploringly yet he did not relinquish his hand. Marlowe's expression was one of a broken man. Following that train of thought, Jean couldn't fathom what he was like.

The longer he thought about it and the further he drifted away from them, the more the memories sharpened. An invisible hand clenched Jean's insides at the reddened memories but pain was the only thing piercing the haze so he clenched his jaw and endured it.

The thief. They hadn't caught him. They hadn't caught him despite there only being two directions to go. The thief in his flash of green...

Rage filled Jean and shattered his stupor under its power. "Scout," he growled, attracting all the MPs' eyes. The confusion flashing inquired for context despite no words being said so Jean's voice grew louder and more hate-filled. "It must have been a bloody Scout! There was no way out of that alley except up! He must have used ODM gear!"

Hitch tossed her hair; she looked surprisingly angry. "Come _on_ , Jean! I think we all know the truth here. It's obvious you're just trying to cover..."

"SHUT THE HELL UP, HITCH!" Jean bellowed, sending the girl back into one of the many chairs piled up in the Military Police headquarters. He blinked, suddenly realising where he was.

It was a lush and elaborate room. Everything from the wallpaper with its wooden panelling to the low polished tables told the story of their owners' arrogance. A pile of playing cards were splayed over one of the latter and somebody's jacket over one of the former. The lamps were all cold but the styled glass still managed to serve a purpose as decoration at least.

"There was no Scout, Jeany. We would have found them if they were anywhere near our city. What would a Scout be doing in Stohess anyway?" Hitch rested a pair of fists on her hips and stood with her weight pushed to one side in a haughty gesture.

"Who cares!?" Jean threw up his hands in frustration as he threw himself from his chair. "WHO THE HELL CARES!? MARCO IS DEAD!" The words were piling out before he could stop and he paid sorely for it. The invisible hand was joined by an invisible foot which slammed into Jean's gut.

His hand flew up to his forehead and he clutched it, clenching his eyes shut as if that would somehow block out the terrible images haunting the forefront of his mind. He hurled a swear into the air and took no notice of anyone's dissent. He took no notice of the pain. He took no notice of his tears.

Jean felt a hand on his shoulder and reacted before he even recognised it was Marlowe's. Jean seized it and twisted Marlowe's arm over his shoulder. Marlowe cried out as his head smashed into one of the low table's sides. He writhed around on the carpet and flittered in and out of consciousness. A small spot blemished the edge. A small red spot.

No-one budged while the bowl-haired boy rolled around, moaning horribly like the wounded animal he was. Jean should have felt some guilt, some remorse to bite him back, but his anger had hardened into a shield protecting him from that.

"Jean..." Boris said warningly.

"NO! Just...Everyone shut the hell up!" Jean turned his back on the others and kicked the door almost off its hinges. The doorknob on the other side cut a deep hole into the wall.

It didn't take much time before Jean broke into a sprint. He wished he could lose his volition again, allow the cloud to make him forget, but his vision was sharp and clear. For once he understood Pixis and all's love of alcohol. It was less painful to forget, but he refused to give up. If he forgot now, the monster would escape. It was his task alone and a task he could not give up on.

There were two MPs guarding the exit but neither of them gave a damn about Jean leaving. Nothing about Marco's... _murder_ was set in stone, it was too early, so Jean had the authority as an MP to do whatever he wished before the suspicion inevitably fell onto him. And he would be long gone before that happened.

Jean surged through the tight crowd, shoving anyone who didn't move in time firmly out of his way. Eyes locked on him as he went but the atmosphere of Stohess was as ambivalent as ever. None of them had any idea what had happened under their noses and that sickened him.

He passed the small enclave and the pit in his gut expanded. The proximity to the scene ate away at Jean like an infestation but instead of backing away, the brunette put his foot forward determinedly and celebrated the clarity brought on by the pain. He needed to muster all the concentration he had if he was going to take down the Scouts.

Jean's eyes turned to the alleyway entrance and, just as he'd expected, it was being guarded by members of the Military Police. In retrospect, Jean actually had no idea how long it had been since. The sun above was only barely beginning to set but it felt just as warm and bright as when he went off to get some rest. It could have been many hours or only one for all Jean knew.

"Hey, you!" barked one of the three MPs leaning against the house walls. He was a particularly long-nosed and shrew-looking one. Jean's fists clenched but he tried to hide the burst of anger from the soldiers; appearing suspicious would _definitely_ not be helpful at that point. However, he couldn't hide the spike of irritation no matter what. The three of them bore identically bored expressions, as if a murder of one of colleagues was nothing! Jean thought that even _their_ selfish minds would be able to process the notion that they could be next.

"What is it?" Jean growled in reply.

"What are you doin' here, boy? This is a crime scene. That means you gotta scram or else." Long Nose brandished his rifle and Jean stared it down. He tugged at the collar of his jacket pointedly.

"Well, if you weren't blind then you'd be able to see my uniform. I'm Military Police like you three and I'm trying to find out what actually happened here. Wouldn't surprise me if you never realised there was a point to all this."

A red-head narrowed his eyes at Jean. "Who do you think you are, talking to us like..?" She was interrupted with a clap on the shoulder from the barrel-wide MP to her side.

Barrel cocked her head and grinned impishly. "No, no. Let's let the little one in. I'm convinced that _he_ can find the killer faster than any of the professionals we could bring in," she chortled. Jean scowled, much to the amusement of Barrel.

"Come on, kid. Lighten up."

"At a crime scene?!"

She shrugged. "People die every day, kid. That's the truth we all have to accept as we grow up."

Jean slapped her hand away as it reached out to ruffle his hair and pushed his way past them. Like the others, they didn't bother to stop him, but the other two were lit with suspicious fire. Jean nodded to himself. He _couldn't_ stay any longer. If he dared then he would be arrested within the week. He was in too bad a situation to get out of it unscathed. Jean knew he had to find the truth since his own life depended on it.

Tall, trapping walls burst out of the ground on each side but the changing sky above was visible and free. The road underneath was clean for the most part until Jean reached the part he was searching for.

For all his strength, Jean almost threw up right then and there. The smell of dried blood and the explosion of images inside his brain made it feel like a swelling balloon, pressing against the inside of a skull like high-pressured poison. The immaterial knife had lodged itself in his stomach and was held there.

Jean clapped his hand over his mouth and forced himself to calm down. His feet were swallowed by the road and immovable. _That is fine_ , Jean told himself, although even inside his head, his voice was high with panic. _All I need to do is look_.

Someone had chalked two sets of white lines on the ground. There were two clear smudges in the spread of blood: where Jean had fallen and where Marco had died. His fists clenched as he attempted to restrain himself. There was absolutely no way to deny it.

The knife hadn't been touched for the sake of preservation but the largest outline was empty, so Jean chose to focus on the former. It was old steel though unlike the ones soldiers were trained with. It had a thirty-centimetre serrated blade and an old plain handle like one you'd use in a kitchen. He scowled and barely resisted the urge to pitch the knife across the whole city. That knife could belong to _anyone_ in Stohess!

Jean swore and pounded the bricks by his side. How the hell was he going to do anything without anything to go on!? Even with ODM gear someone couldn't disappear into thin air..! His eyes drifted upwards and locked on something interesting. A triumphant smile cracked through the rage and Jean almost laughed.

"You weren't as clever as you thought you were, bastard!" he declared loudly, uncaring of the Scout' reactions.

Dents ruined the clean image of the surrounding buildings, clearly remnants of ODM gear hooks. It was proof.

"Oh, crap. Well done, Josephine, you let a freakin' psycho into a crime scene," Jean heard one of the MPs, Long Nose, say.

"C'mon, kid," Red said. "Get outta there. You've had your fun."

Jean's face fell back into anger at the sound of their voices. He turned and called down to them, confident. "Have there been any Scouts in the area?"

Long Nose rolled his eyes and edged forwards. "You're cracked. Why would a Scout come to Sina? This ain't their place."

" _Have there been any Scouts_?!" Jean demanded.

"No! Like we said; there's no way a Scout was in Stohess!" Red narrowed her eyes.

"You're wrong. If any of you opened your eyes then you'd see one was here! A _Scout_ killed Marco!"

Long Nose crept further still, his face now creased in worry at Jean's rising anger. "Kid, calm the heck down."

"I will once you lot get some work down." Jean thrust his hand up at the cracks. "There are marks on the walls. They're from ODM hooks which means it must have been a Scout. No-one in the Garrison bothers with ODM so it has to be one of them!"

For a moment, the young man seemed to consider it. Watery eyes danced around until noticeably stopping at the dents Jean had pointed out. However the moment dissolved quickly at a glance to his colleagues. Long Nose shook his head.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull kid. No Scouts are, or _were_ , in Stohess. None of them killed 'im. I mean, haven't you heard? Everyone's goin' down near Maria."

Jean's eyes flashed open with the flick of the mental light. Of course. He wouldn't hang around, not if he could use ODM gear. So Jean nodded.

"You're right," he said tonelessly.

Josephine sighed from behind the others. "Thank the Walls you finally understand. Now, back away, kid. This is _our_ job, not yours."

"Ha." The brunette's voice held no amusement. "Your job? How much would you like to bet you won't do anything about this?!"

A fist flew out and slammed into Jean's jaw. His mouth blossomed with pain and blots painted his vision. He tumbled backwards, falling uncontrollably closer to the reddened ground, but then the MP snatched a ball of Jean's shirt inside his clenched hand and tugged the younger soldier to a stop. With ease, he pulled Jean closer and glared straight into his eyes.

"Know your place, newbie, or you might end up the same way as your little friend. I will _not_ be spoken to like that!"

"Stefan!" Josephine barked, then Stefan let Jean go. The younger MP stumbled to keep upright and avoid falling but wasted no time in returning the glower.

Stefan's voice dropped to a sinister quiet and he leant over so only Jean could hear. "I'd watch out if I were you. You're actin' pretty suspicious; I doubt it'll be too difficult to make everyone see that." He straightened up and grinned mischievously.

Red spoke up. "Get going, kid. You've had your fun but it's seriously time for you to go."

Jean looked back to Stefan but soon wheeled away. His brisk walked became a run once he passed the alleyway entrance. He knew what to do now so, without wasting any time on explanations, goodbyes, or even collecting his things, Jean headed away. He made a beeline for the wall. If the Scouts were going to be at Wall Maria, then that was where Marco's killer would be.


	3. Chapter 3

As Jean approached Wall Sina his sharp eyes noticed one thing about the gate; the river of people was much thicker and livelier than he had ever seen it. The noise was a buzz of chatter and when he peered in, searching for more clues about the crowd's purpose, Jean saw the majority of citizens were laden with packs, luggage, and wrapped in so many layers that they appeared to be a band of coat hangers.

Jean scowled and he stopped in the middle of the street, just out of the hoard's way. Admittedly, his plan hadn't been to sail through the front gate but the surplus of people invited the likelihood of many more soldiers on duty. What the hell were these people doing anyway? Once you reached the Interior, who would go...? The scowl cut a deep line across his mouth and forehead and he spat yet another swear at the damned 'Titan Show'. The pointless farce had done no good whatsoever.

"C'mon everyone!" called a weary voice into the crowd. It was the tone of a man at the end of his shift, but somewhat familiar to Jean. The MP turned his head and searched into the crowd again to catch a glimpse at the voice's owner.

"For the last time, there's no need to shove! Urgh!" The short-haired Garrison member threw up his hands in frustration, allowing him to stand out among all the heads and bustling.

Jean froze for a few seconds, cranking the cogs in his mind to recall the familiar soldier. "Thomas?" he called out as soon as the lightbulb clicked.

Thomas' head whipped around as he located the equally recognisable voice. "Jean?" They locked eyes and any doubt was cut. Thomas' eyes lit up and he grinned. "Hey, Jean!" The golden-haired Garrison waded through the citizens and made his way over to the grumpy fellow ex-cadet and Trost born. "How've you been, Jean?"

Jean attempted a smile in return but the heaviness tugging down his shoulders and lips did not move. Thankfully, Thomas did not consider this to be out of the ordinary. Jean had never wasted many pleasantries which those he didn't know too well.

"I've been fine, Thomas," he said, "but I need some help."

"Help?"

"Yes. You don't need to know why, but I need your jacket. You can have mine, be a member of the MP. All that matters is that I can look like I'm Garrison."

Thomas laughed, apparently thinking it was a joke. Jean barely avoided growling in his impatience. "Why'd you want to be in the Garrison, Jean? I mean, come on. Don't tell me all that about getting to the Interior was just a joke."

"It wasn't! Listen, I really don't care what I have to do, just agree."

"Woah, okay." Thomas held up one hand to calm Jean down while slipping off his rose-emblazoned jacket with the other. "Calm down a bit. I was only joking. I'll gladly swap, but this doesn't seem like you. That's all."

Jean nodded shortly. "I know. I'm busy, Thomas, so I don't have the time to explain, okay?"

Thomas nodded and eyed Jean's jacket, not with suspicion as the latter would have done but with mild incredulity. They exchanged uniforms and Jean noted that the sleeves were shorter. Annoyed, he reassumed talking.

"You won't pass as an MP for long so after today, go back to the Garrison and say you lost your jacket instead; I, for one, won't be here to return it. Walk around Stohess for a day or something. I'm sure you could find something to do."

Thomas had realised by then that he wasn't going to get much context so he ended up smiling back at Jean. "Thanks, Jean. Soldiers like me aren't really allowed this side of Wall Sina. That's what you MPs are for. Don't know what you're doing but it seems important, so good luck with all that." Thomas moved his fists to his heart and back in salute and sauntered off happily, already assuming the general sunniness radiated by most citizens grateful to be in the Interior. Jean watched him go for only a few seconds before returning to his initial mission. He studied the surrounding people but they were all too engrossed with themselves to have noticed the illegal trade.

Now he was a Garrison Member, crossing the wall and exploring beyond that was much easier. No-one would question a rose-wearing soldier's presence in the territory beyond Sina as they would a clear MP.

Jean avoided the actual gate and instead made his way up. No-one gave him a second look. Stohess' entrance was heavily guarded, not only for the sudden manifestation of 'holiday-goers' but every time of the year. The amount of guards had increased that day yet Jean found the previous annoyance to be a disguised blessing. He ventured up a strand of wall fairly far from the way out with non-existent resistance. The extra soldiers were all stationed with the crowd so Jean discovered that he was alone.

With the lack of people came a surprising quiet, and with that quiet came the wisps of thought stabbing at Jean. His plan was not all too thought out, he knew that, but it was too late to care. Jean didn't doubt he would be able to sort himself out in the two or three days it took to reach Maria from Sina. Even if the murderous scout wasn't at the show he would find someone who knew them. The only problem appeared as the realisation that travel between Walls wasn't an easy thing. Even as a soldier, even as a tourist, it would take a lot of time to walk. Jean didn't have a wagon, or a horse, or anything of the sort. He clenched his fists tried to accept the probability of theft in his near future.

Jean rose and fell, rocking on the balls of his heels instead of standing rigidly as he usually did. Nerves shouldn't have bothered him but anticipation tugged at this body with puppet strings.

People passed by amicably as the Garrison shepherded them through. No-one was interesting enough to catch Jean's eyes; even the outcries of a random wall-worshiping protester became routine after a time. No OMD rigs were being used. No scouts had shown their faces.

His borrowed jacket was too small no matter how Jean pulled at the hems and cuffs. In hindsight, a taller Garrison would have been better but the opportunity with Thomas had been too perfect for his to pass. As long as I look like one of them it's perfect, he forced himself to think despite its explicit contradiction with his feelings.

"Um, excuse me?"

Jean leapt back and lashed out mindlessly with a fist. His knuckles caught something and crashed the victim to the ground.

"Bloody hell," Jean snapped at himself. He stuffed his hands into his jacket and moved over to the petite blonde he'd knocked over. "Listen. Sorry for that and all but you shouldn't have…"

A pair of large blue orbs gazed up at Jean and the small person got back to their feet shakily, brushing back hair nervously to reveal a face. He looked dazed.

"You're a guy," Jean stated dumbly. At least it hadn't been a little girl but the civilian was still built like a daffodil; a punch from Jean must have hurt.

"Huh? Sorry. I mustn't have caught that." He rubbed his cheek tentatively and met Jean's eyes with an almost apologetic expression. Jean was surprised, but not enough not to cover up his mistake.

"It's nothing," he lied. "You shouldn't be here anyway. You're not Garrison." He looked pointedly at the blonde's lack of uniform and tried not to think about the illegitimacy of his own.

Confusion flashed through deceptively analytical eyes, however, it quickly fell to an awkward laugh and smile. "Don't worry. My name is Armin Arlert and I'm working here to supervise the travel's progress." Armin extended his hand, a pleasantry Jean did not feel the need to copy but he did at least relent his name to the young supervisor.

Armin's hand trailed off and his blue stare changed targets to the landscape seen past the wall. Jean expected him to turn to the Interior, a rare sight for non-important officials, yet Armin was looking to the familiar land within Wall Rose.

"This is all a bit difficult, I'll admit. Commander Erwin and the other leaders have been planning this for a whole year before they announced it to the public. Boats have had to be organised, accommodation built, all for this."

"I think it's idiotic. Why are they making us go through all this just to see a bunch of titans?"

Armin was not a threatening person. His face was a blend of borderline cherubic proportions and scrawny features to match his frame but he stood with an underlying intelligence that actually creeped Jean out.

"It seems pretty obvious to me," said Armin. "Regular people haven't seen a titan for over one hundred and five years. After so long some people have started to doubt their existence. I grew in Shiganshina, one of the southern outlying districts, so I know they're still there, yet they've almost devolved into myths for other people."

Jean remembered Hitch's attitude, then followed Armin's gaze to Wall Rose. Not that you could see it at this distance, Trost was only a wall away. Jean exhaled loudly. "Yeah. I never believed they could be gone either. I guess that's why I don't get this."

The blonde nodded. "I understand. To the general public it's nothing but a rare moment of entertainment even if it's something quite deeper to Commander Erwin, and the other leaders as well now I think about it. Peace within the Walls depends greatly on the masses being too grateful to disturb it."

Jean stared. "Who told you all this?" he demanded and Armin's eyes shot open in protest.

"What? No-one told me any of this. I-I just made observations."

The ashen-haired boy scoffed, arching an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause if that's so then I doubt they'll let you stay around for much longer. People like you, the ones who think too much, tend to get arrested for treason."

Armin imitated a small animal in a trap very well. Jean's mouth opened and a cracking sound came out, a harsh imitation of laughter. It was as close as Jean was going to get. He liked Armin's expression, the proof he was as weak as he looked, and he hated himself for liking it, not that it changed that fact.

"It-It was all opinion. Nothing concrete at all," the smaller of the two stammered on. He looked ready to spend hours explaining the finer points of why and how he wasn't a traitor but Jean honestly didn't have the time or patience for any of that. Jean held up his hand in front of Armin's face and gestured for him to shut up.

"You need to learn to take things a little less seriously, Arlert," he said. Jean lowered his hand, pleased to see that Armin didn't seem any less scared. He straightened up and studied the blonde's expression out of the corner of his eye.

"Is this your job, staring at the civilians being herded through the gate?"

Armin shook his head. "No. It's my job to go with this first group to check that everything goes according to plan."

He looked terrified at the prospect. Something in Jean's mind clicked and the MP realised something important. After Thomas and now Armin, fate was bending itself towards Marco's killer's end.

"You're not military, are you?"

"No. I've never been the type of person who's cut out for fighting. Two of my friends joined up, they would have both joined the Scouts by now, but with things the way they are…" He paused, allowing the silence to prod at his thoughts. "I thought I'd be better out of the way." His voice lost volume with every word, becoming less for Jean's sake and more obviously for his own. "The population is growing so the people need _someone_ to help organise it."

"So you can't fight," concluded Jean.

Armin shook his head.

"How do you intend to get to Wall Maria anyway? Even with a wagon, I doubt your horse could fight off the people who come to rob you."

"Rob me?"

"Face it. You're going to look like someone important enough to attack."

"Y-Yeah…"

"So that's why I'm offering to come along."

"What!?" Armin stepped back and stared with massive eyes at Jean, furiously working to assess whether the supposed Garrison was telling the truth.

"I'm not kidding. You need someone to protect you and _I_ need to get to Wall Maria. It's a win-win situation, Arlert."

"But, what about the Garrison..?"

"I don't care. They won't notice I'm gone anyway." At least there was one truth he could add to the massive heap of lies he'd been building.

A bright blue scan worked its way down from Jean's own piercing eyes to his steadfast stance. It was obvious that Jean had motivations Armin couldn't work out yet. However, his words had dug up a needling fear in the back of Armin's mind. If Armin agreed, he was likely to get to his destination unharmed and understand why this Garrison Solider had offered him such a deal. If he refused, he would be attacked, by probable bandits or by Jean himself. If only he could travel along with the crowd he was monitoring but then he would be risking interference with his results.

Jean's eyes were hard. They asserted one thing; whether he wanted to or not, this was an offer Armin could not refuse. So, he nodded timidly.

"Thank you." Jean breathed deeply and looked around fervently. "When do you plan to leave?"

Armin's eyes flickered upwards in thought. "I shouldn't be any longer than thirty minutes. Since I'm supervising their journey I have to leave after everyone has left to gauge the effect it has on the surrounding people. The innkeepers, travellers, people who live near the trail," he elaborated.

"Good. It's a two-day journey, right?"

"Three day. We found that _theoretically_ you could complete in it two days but that didn't leave enough time for breaks. The show starts in a week so the distance discrepancies shouldn't be a problem as long as they leave within the next three days. Different groups are being organised for each day of leaving but I've been told to look after this one."

"Good," he repeated, tuning out once again. Armin began to ramble about all the details about his orders and Jean stopped caring. Armin was his ticket out of here and the revelation that he was friends with two scouts was very welcome to hear. As weak as he looked, Jean suspected that he would need the mind beneath all of it one of these days.

They definitely weren't as numerous as the Garrison but the Scouts had their fair share of members so no matter what it would be difficult to locate Marco's murderer. For a moment, Jean wondered whether it was something they knew, one of the idiots who'd chosen the Scouting Regiment from training, but then he dismissed it. It was Wall Sina and _very_ far off course. He doubted someone as new to the Scouts as he was to the Military Police would have that freedom. So, in a way, he was already closer to finding out who the killer was.

Armin walked around the Wall's gate for a while after that, talking about work with the Garrison while Jean avoided all contact with his supposed colleagues. It felt like more than the half hour Armin had promised but by the time Jean was introduced to their wagon, loaded with the trunks of Armin, the driver and another supervisor, he was pleased enough with it.

It occurred to him too late that he nothing to call his own on this journey. Wall Sina and Stohess had already faded into the distance, meaning the soldier could do nothing but seethe at his mistake. Growling, Jean crossed his arms and slouched against the short wooden surface stopping him from falling off as Renata Messman, the spindly woman joining them, almost did. There was a soft jangle and Jean froze. He didn't dare to check but later, after the sky had started to redden and the two civilians had fallen asleep, he fished into his pocket and found the small sack of gold coins.


	4. Chapter 4

"Arlert!" Jean called from inside the wagon. The day was particularly grim and cloudy today. The sun had disappeared yesterday behind the wall of rolling grey and the residual warmth from the hotter days had faded. The cold and dull weather had done nothing to ease Jean's almost constant annoyance from his company.

Armin had stopped them at scattering of brick, thatched rectangles someone had apparently dubbed a village. After a night of coarse bedding and lying on the hard wagon wood it felt like the world itself was out to irritate him as much as possible. He was definitely grateful for the ride because he knew that it would have been infinitely harder to get there but...

"You're just wasting time!" he yelled in the direction of the nearest house.

"Excuse me, Mr Kirschtein was it?" began Renata, the woman travelling with Armin. She had the unhealthy frame of someone who looked stretched but Jean never had the same level of intimidation over her as he had Armin.

Jean glanced up and arched an eyebrow. "Yes?" he said irritably. Armin was careful. Too careful. Renata knew as well as he did that Armin had almost cost them their schedule numerous times yet only ever seemed to find fault with him.

She pulled a pair of glasses from a tangle of beige-like hair and polished them unnecessarily on her shirt as she spoke. "I understand that you are here as a measure of security. However, you do not have the authority to question the work of either Mr Arlert or myself. If you continue I will have to..."

"Leave me here? I know, so I apologise," he lied. Renata did not look convinced but fortunately she never bothered to press any further. Sometimes he wondered if she was _trying_ to exercise power, not that Jean really had any high horse.

"Everything is wrought with human error so it is normal for the time taken to fluctuate every so often." Her words were unnaturally framed in an attempt to sound formal which really didn't suit her very childish voice. Although, to be honest, nothing about her fitted together well. Her voice with her nature, her frame with her hair, her wide eyes and thin lips. Renata was not an attractive woman in Jean's opinion which made her fickleness even more grating.

Jean scanned the nearby area. There was no clock tower so she couldn't tell how long Armin had been gone. If there had been one it would have stood out like the king's clothes in Trost amongst the bare fields and dirt road stretching the big patch of nothing between the nearest towns. Jean had read Armin and Renata's orders so he was pretty sure that they weren't obligated to stop at _every_ hamlet they passed.

He shuffled to the side and readjusted himself but couldn't ignore the two lines he felt engraved into his back after leaning against the short wooden fence for so long. Jean threw himself to his feet and muttered a makeshift excuse for the other supervisor he didn't really care about. With a moment of staggering around on needling legs, Jean clambered over the ledge and jumped down to the dusty earth below. The thin grass already looked like it had been stampeded so he wasn't going to lose any sleep over ruining what he was told was someone's lawn.

A door was ajar so he followed that inside to small shop. The shelves were old and stacked with precarious glass jars which convinced Jean to keep to the centre of the room instead of risking the sides. Armin was listening to the apron-clad man standing behind the desk. If his wild hand gestures said anything, it was clear to Jean it was a heated discussion, albeit one-sided.

"...winter all those years back. Arthur is _still_ swearing by it! I don't think none of fields really ever recover'd from it, y'know? More an' more people in the towns an' all want to keep givin' 'em food so we have to bend over backwards over 'ere!"

Armin nodded and made a small sound of interest but it sounded to Jean like a panicked hostage. He rolled his eyes, the shopkeeper too involved in his own story to have noticed Jean yet, and reached for the blonde's arm.

"Mr Arlert. We have to leave now," he said with an air of convincing importance.

The shopkeeper glowered, obviously angered at the interruption, but Jean's blank face allowed him to get away with ignoring the man. Armin's expression wavered but Jean tugged harder on his arm and pulled him out of the shop with little possible resistance.

"If you hear out every sob story in Wall Rose we're not going to get anywhere in time!" Jean hissed quietly to Armin as they passed the threshold back into the dull chill.

Armin started to worm out of Jean's hold so the soldier let go. It was better than seeing the civilian's pathetic attempt. "I know that. But the less connected towns," Jean raised an eyebrow at the glaringly inaccurate term, "are being left by the wayside. It may not be a part of my current job but these are the exact situations I want to be able to improve."

Brown eyes narrowed at the blue. "You can do that when you get to it. For now, let's not waste time for no reason. You've got to get to the edge of Wall Maria before the show starts. A week or not, I'm not sure anymore whether you're going to make it. For goodness sake, there's a time and place for side jobs!"

"I'm sure," Armin replied simply.

He walked back to the wagon without any further words. Jean gritted his teeth. Armin wouldn't dare forwardly insult Jean. Surely someone as smart as he was could tell Jean could beat him up at any moment yet he could hear him testing him. Jean's straight lips downturned into a scowl. He forced himself back into the vehicle and kept quiet as Renata chatted with the driver. Jean didn't know much about where they were heading but he knew that they should be able to reach the end of Wall Rose by nightfall. They'd given him that information _before_ Armin had kept them at a random hamlet so he doubted that they wouldn't be travelling through the night.

Thankfully, the supervisors were obligated to check up on a village only in the mornings and evenings, after everyone had stopped. Jean made sure they didn't waste any more time that day.

The rough road did not pass smoothly under the old vehicle's thin wheels so the passengers felt every single peddle or pothole jostle the entire trio. The sunless sky yielded no information on the time so it had confined Jean to staring into the distance to pass it. Travel had been rare for the soldier before then; he either stayed in Trost, the Training Camp and Stohess without much need for wagons. It churned his stomach but he'd found earlier that staring into the horizon managed to quell the sickness. It never appeared to affect Renata yet Armin reacted exactly as Jean expected him to: quivering on the wooden planks.

"Shouldn't you already travel a lot? Being a supervisor and all," Jean said, not glancing away from the landscape.

Renata laughed and nodded. "He does. Believe or not, Mr Kirschtein, he has improved."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you're pathetic, Arlert." Armin moaned in weary reply. Renata laughed again.

"It is quite obvious that you are not doing much better, Mr Kirschtein," she said. Jean glared and the dark-haired blonde rushed to explain herself. "I can tell that you are not used to travel either, Mr Kirschtein. My mother drove a wagon daily to trade with the nearby towns so someone like me is used to transportation where someone from a district would _clearly_ be different."

The surface beneath them lurched and hurled all but one to the side. Armin curled over and Jean's arms flailed at the abrupt lack of stability. "It was likely a rock," Renata explained and at that moment, Jean realised how annoying her formal-baby voice was.

"Shut up! I could guess."

She instantly withdrew and the two civilians met each other with unreadable expressions. Jean crossed his arms and turned away from them, his face burning. It was anger at his embarrassment at his anger. He pulled his legs to the side and tried his best to make the rigidness comfortable. In naivety, Jean hoped for sleep but reality soon showed its face. His breath was heavy like plumes of fire set off by that single spark of indignity. Jean's scowl grew and he forced his eyes to close, at least feigning sleep to avoid the gaze of the other two. He wondered whether he would hear the two speak yet neither of them opened their mouths. The silence was a heavy curtain and it did not lift for the sake of Jean's eavesdropping.

The long uneventful time allowed Jean's rage to ebb down. Jean discovered that thinking time was not the best thing for him to have. He couldn't help but mill over his plans. Marco's killer would be punished, that was a certainty for Jean, yet he wasn't quite sure what that meant, even to himself. His mind clouded whenever he thought about it though it was in a different, darker way to the way he'd been after Marco's death. His actions would be inevitable, even if they were invisible to his mind at present.

"Jean!"

The soldier's eyes flew open before even realising they were closed. Jean bolted upright at the urgent voice and crashed headlong into Armin's, causing both their cries to echo from their mouths and off their wagon's cover. Both young men writhed and clutched panging heads until the ashen-haired one managed to wrench open an eye at the other. He pressed a hand to his temple and gritted his teeth while Armin had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop his shouts from drawing too much attention.

"What the hell?" Jean hissed.

Armin groaned and as he did so Jean was strangely reminded of his first day of training. The instructor headed him, all because he'd voiced his wishes to join the Military Police. To tell the truth, it was a weird thing for pain to remind him of.

"Urgh, Armin? Arlert, what do you want?" Jean said.

Miraculously, through his shaking jaw, Armin managed to push out some words though he did so in a calculatedly quiet voice. "O-Outside – Ow, it hurts –" he couldn't help but remark. "We all need your help, Jean."

Jean's eyebrows knitted together, confused. "What? Why would you lot need _my_ help?" he wondered. To his surprise, the supervisor seemed puzzled at what, at least he thought, was a perfectly typical response for him.

"Wh-? Jean, there's a disturbance going on outside and we need your help to sort it out! You promised to be our guard, didn't you?"

He muttered a swear but tried to make sure that Armin didn't actually hear it. He slid up the wagon's hard edge so he was upright again and rubbed the back of his neck. His sleep had been dreamless at a cost. Jean's lips were a slash across his face while the creases in his forehead deepened further. He had expected to be haunted by shock at night yet there had been nothing. Just darkness.

Jean moved to his feet, attempting to minimise the noise he made, and crouched to keep a low centre of gravity. "Okay, Arlert, tell me this; what did you see?" he asked, quietly and forcefully,

Armin's eyes became bright, alight with the recollection of knowledge. "We've almost reached the stop site for today – You were sleeping for quite a few hours now I think about it – but the driver stopped the wagon. He noticed something near the woods and Renata went to find out what was happening."

"Wait!" Jean held his index finger up to Armin's face and Armin stopped talking, obedient under panic. "Why in the world would Messman go out on her own?" His eyes flickered to the slit of outfit visible through the fabric then soon returned. "It's dark and she's –" For lack of a better word, "– _her_!"

"Well, what did you expect? You're as approachable as a hungry bear to her."

Jean had no words so he simply scowled in response.

"It must be a robbery, or a kidnapping," Armin continued with his face becoming more and more distraught as he went. "I'd guess two or three but I don't know."

There was a creaking of wooden planks as they bent weakly under Jean's movements, causing the two of them to wince. The soldier breathed deeply, then continued onwards. He jumped from the wagon into the fading light outside the cover. This grass was muddy and it wasn't a surprise seeing as there was a large woods in front of him. If Jean strained his ears he could hear a sound deeper than leaf rustling and more human than the birds' screeching.

Jean swore again and turned back to Armin. "I...I'll need you to come with me, Arlert."

His eyes shot wide in surprise. "Wh-What? B-But I-I'm not a soldier! I'll just be a burden!" Meanwhile, Jean's mind was desperately churning to find a way to resolve this way _while_ trying to avoid thinking about all the hours he'd wasted in training. The Military Police may have always been his endgame yet he had never bothered with the human-on-human training. It hadn't counted towards his final grade so it hadn't mattered. Maybe he'd always dreaded the possibility of actually _needing_ it one day.

"Yes. I don't care how strong you are, Arlert. Two against who-knows how many is at least better than one. I thought you would have figured that out, your 'great' brain and all. Do you have a plan?"

Armin crawled over the wagon and eased himself shakily to the ground. It wasn't a comforting image. The small blonde dusted himself off and wrung his hand in the other from fright despite not even being at the forest's edge yet. "I-I can't say _anything_ for certain yet. Wh-Who knows what we're up against. Until I know where Renata is I can't do anything; I'm worthless without information, Jean."

"Fine. Just...Just get ready to run. You should be able to provide a distraction, I guess. C'mon." Jean gestured for Armin to join him and he took the first step towards the woods. He needed to act braver than he felt but nonetheless he was grateful for the shadows' cover. It could hide the hesitation in his paces and the nervousness in his scanning eyes.

The forest soon engulfed them, swallowing them whole like the mouth of a great monster. Something flashed in Jean's mind but he quickly dismissed it. There were no titans in Wall Rose. Darkness flickered past his eyes from the small breaks of fading light appearing every so often between the skeletal branches. The undergrowth was soft with moss, mud and grass yet it roots wormed their way from the trees to the two men's feet, seemingly determined to trip them up for the darkness to take. Jean focused on the immediate path worn away from footsteps and narrowed his eyes, no longer allowing himself to notice the cawing birds, the reaching branches or even the phantom noises he heard riding on the gusts.

This plan of selectivity started to work for the young MP. Whether it was conscious or not, as long as he focused only on making the next step he could do so with strength. Somewhere, Jean knew he was terrified, however, now it did not weigh on him. That job, unsurprisingly, was Armin's.

The blonde quivered and yelped a hastily muffled cry every time his foot snapped a branch below or scuffed a wild mushroom. When they weren't darting around, his eyes would snap shut in retaliation to his fright, something that wasn't remotely helpful.

" _Calm_. _Down_!" Jean hissed impatiently. The heart of the woods loomed closer steadily, as would the assailants Armin described. The trees were thick and darkening, the path less and less defined. Both pairs of eyes strained like torches, searching into the almost black, and although it was their cloak, Jean knew it would soon be their wall.

Armin gulped down breaths and apologised wheezingly. "I – Am – AH!"

Jean stuck his arm out and gripped the falling civilian, paying no mind to the certain pain his iron-clamp hands caused him. Jean tugged Armin back to his feet, a near-effortless gesture, and covered the shorter boy's lips for him. Armin flailed and clawed at Jean's hands but it didn't take long for his bright gaze to fall on the other's expression. Jean's face was pointed and still, the face of a hunter having sensed its prey.

Slowly, and noiselessly, the blonde eased his way out of the ashen-haired soldier's grasp. He studied the latter's look and soon followed his gaze to past the trees and into a clearing. Armin carefully stepped forwards with watched, precise steps in order to remain as silent as he could and then peered through into the clearing.

Compared the slivers of little light from the moon and sunset, the lantern was the sun. Armin had to blink back from the sudden brightness and wait for his eyes to readjust. Squinting, he recognised the silhouettes of three, all blocking the wavering fire from different levels. One was standing, the moving blob of their head indicating that they were surveying the area, ineffectually considering that they hadn't yet noticed Armin or Jean. Another figure, this one shorter, was slouching and had their head bowed, looking down at the third who was kneeling on the ground.

Armin shivered, bringing his hands up to his arms in a feeble attempt to pass it off as cold. His eyebrows were knitted and the corner of his lips downturned. Even as blind as he was to the scene, he could not escape the dread it created.

"… _ere's n_ … _ne there_." Jean and Armin simultaneously leant closer, reaching out for a better hear of the situation.

The first and second figures had moved away from the low third so now they could understand each other's hushed tones. The blocks of shadow they'd provided shifted, shining a backlight on the two. Neither the solider nor supervisor could make out faces but the glow behind them illuminated two heads of brown hair, identical enough in shade and different enough in shape for Armin.

He moved closer to Jean's ear and whispered hurriedly. "Siblings," he guessed. "One brother and one sister, I'd say." Jean nodded yet didn't reply. After only two or three seconds Armin realised it was because he expected more so he looked back. "Young adults by height. Quite a bit older than us though. Maybe strong? They certainly don't look on the lean side to me, although that could just be the poor lightning. Nothing is for certain but the third doesn't appear to be a part of their group. It must be Renata. She _is_ captured."

He turned to watch Jean's face and saw it was grim, until Jean remembered Armin's eyes on him. The lack of confidence was wiped away and replaced by an unreadable nothing.

" _Hah_!" The taller figure, the brother, hissed victoriously at the woman. "Hah! I told you it wasn't military. I. Told. You!" There was obviously an attempt to control his volume but his hushed voice was still loud enough for Armin and Jean to understand with ease, even from their distance.

"Yes…" the sister growled in return. "But there were still pe – Wipe that smile off your face! This was not a win – still people out there. We're not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. We could still get caught. We-" A note of panic crept into her voice, turning it shrill. "We could get arrested! We need to let her go. Kidnapping is _much_ worse than stealing, Law!"

"Technically, it's still stealing. Just, you know, a woman instead of money."

"Lawrence!" The woman started to pace. "By the Walls. By the Walls! If I go to jail, there is nothing I won't do to get you in there with me!"

There was an exasperated sigh. " _Lawrence_!" he warbled in an unflattering imitation. "Calm the heck down, El. How about we just dump her? Leave _her_ here so _we_ can get a move on already."

There was another sigh. A quieter one closer to Armin. Confusion flashed through his features and he turned to see what it was before a large _snap_ drew everyone's attention.

Jean was standing in front of him, a large stick in hand, and his eyes wide in warning. _Go!_ he mouthed, his eyes hard, before darting through the gap in the trees.

 _I'm about to earn your nickname,_ _Jaeger_ , Jean internally sighed, feeling unbelievable idiotic as he brandished a branch.

He sprinted and raised the makeshift-weapon above his head. The two kidnappers were staring at him and ready since they'd clearly heard. However, to Jean's mild amusement, it didn't stop him from getting a good hit in first. The wood crashing into the side of the man's neck, sending him flying to the side and out of the way.

Jean's eyes actually widened at his miraculous success. Soon, the soldier remembered their captive. Although her eyes were hidden behind a sheen of light from the lantern walling her glasses' lenses, Renata's eyebrows were high in panic and her jaw was trying to move under the gag, making her fright clear.

A glimpse of a shadow lit up Jean's eyes. "Get her away from here!" he yelled, seemingly to no-one. The target of his words became even less clear to the assailants as he had already turned his head to face them.

The woman, her expression caught sinister in the uplight, rounded on the newcomer. In her hand something glinted; it would have been dangerously invisible if not for that. It was a knife.

Jean refused to waste any more time. The traditional ways he'd been taught had been long since forgotten but he was never entirely useless. He surged forwards and the branch shot downwards before the woman could even think about what to do. The bark collided hard with her hands indiscriminately and the knife leapt from her hands while she cried out in pain.

A boot stepped on the hilt and kicked it back, Jean hoping it hadn't hit someone, before catching the man – Lawrence she'd called him – in the chest as he pounced. All breath exploded from his lungs and the kidnapper landed in the grass, gasping. Vaguely, in the background, Jean was aware of Armin reaching Renata but it had all become strangely blurry.

A recovered kidnapper, balling up her presumably stinging hands, tried in vain to attack Jean again but Jean soon realised that neither of them knew nearly as much as he did. As a hand approached the branch in his hands seemed to transform into metal, a memory of a soldier's sword. It snapped into his enemies and threw them back. It wasn't a thrill. It wasn't a dream. It was a strangled feeling behind his eyes that was hot yet cold. It overtook Jean.

"... _J...an..._ Jean. Jean!" A voice built and built, saying his name over and over. A sobriety returned slowly like a trickle of ice water running downwards from his head to his heels. He pressed his hand to his cheek, It was stiff and raw. He'd been hit...

"Mr Kirschtein, l-let's go," Renata said in a wailing tone. Jean turned and saw her jogging next to Armin and him. Her expression was frazzled but there was something strange in her eyes. To be honest, it was an expression Jean never thought he'd see directed at him: a mix between appreciation and fear.

"Wha..?" Jean started but Armin was dragging him out of the clearing. He noticed the branch was gone. "What actually happened back there."

"You saved me," said Renata breathlessly. "Thank you. Thank you, Mr Kirschtein."

The rest of the forest blurred past the three of them as they ran. Armin led them back the wagon with his breathing shaking his weak frame and loaded them all in.

"Woah! Mr Arlert, what..?"

"You don't have to worry about it," said Armin, hurrying. "Get going, quickly!" The driver's eyes were wide at the surprising volume so he rushed to get the wagon onto the road. Armin sat himself down and pressed his hand to his heart. He couldn't seem to believe what had happened.

"This...Is..." he huffed. "Why...I'm not a...Soldier!"

Jean arched an eyebrow, but he did so sluggishly. He felt worn and oddly lethargic. "You wouldn't have survived a single day in my training, Arlert."

He looked around and found Renata still staring at him,

"Thank you," she said again. She'd been muttering that to him for a while at that point and in all honesty, Jean was getting slightly annoyed.

"That was so nice of you."

Jean shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It was either that or getting left behind." He met her eyes pointedly and her face blossomed pink.

Armin actually smiled at this. "You didn't have to, Jean. You could have easily taken the wagon. I know for a fact that you can be _persuasive_ when you want to be." His words sounded like a joke but his voice was strangely sincere. So sincere and free of any malice than any words were stolen from Jean.

Unsure of what to do or say to their responses, Jean rolled over and looked away. The darkness quickly eased him to sleep, but his mind continued to weigh uncomfortably heavy.


	5. Chapter 5

The pale walls of Jean's room at the MP Headquarters glowed with the light streaming in through the windows, who themselves seemed to simply be blocks of white. Jean sat at the end of his bed, facing the doorway. The dark brown wood stood out as something clear and cutting against all the fuzzy light, however, even then it was clouded up by Jean's bleary eyes. The Military Police member stared but couldn't concern what time it was. It could have been morning, midday or evening for all he knew.

"Are you okay, Jean? About Marco leaving, I mean." Jean arched an eyebrow at Armin. He was blocking the door from view and swaying uncertainly as though he planned to leave.

His face turned and quickly checked on Marco before looking back. "What are you talking about? He's right here. You're blinder than I realised, Arlert. Come on and show him, Marco."

Marco's face was much clearer to Jean than Armin's. All he could make out beyond his blurred sight was a pair of bright blue eyes and a head of straight golden hair. Marco on the other hand was splashed with freckles, his fairly broad build and child-like round face obvious. A hand rose to needlessly brush down his short black hair and his light brown eyes were as wide and full of hope as ever.

Marco laughed good-naturedly at Jean's comment. "Wow, Jean. I didn't realise you were like that."

Jean laughed back, despite not fully understanding the joke. "What d'you mean, Marco?"

The darker-haired MP tilted his head and studied Jean's expression with a smile. "I think you should just admit it."

"Hah!" A cocky edge grew on Jean's face. "Well, _I_ don't think I've got anything to admit, Marco."

He shrugged in response. "Do you really think you're alright?" Marco picked up Armin's question with a regularly concerned expression.

Jean smirked. "Course I am. Why ask?"

"Don't you see it, buddy?" Marco kept smiling; his tone continued to be light, but there was a deep darkness inlaid in his tone.

Jean shifted away from his friend and the creases in his forehead became deeper. He balled up the bed covers in his fists and found that he was shaking. The whole room seemed to hum and fiery blots peeked in and out of his vision at random. "Marco..."

"It's because there's something wrong, Jean – You're crying – and, I'm here, so...you can't be alright."

"Wh-What? I'm not..." He lifted his hand. It fluctuated between being rock-heavy and cloud-light as though he was breaking it out of water. It reached his face and the touch of cold shocked his eyes open.

The intense sunset stared straight into his eyes, lighting his retinas and the horizon on fire. Tears stained his skin and ran over his fingers as he held them there against his cheek.

"No!" The word forced itself from his throat like a gulp of despair, Jean's hands scrambled around the wooden planks, his fingernails clawing at where the mattress had been just a few moments ago.

"No!" he repeated, staring in horror at the wagon around him as if it had consumed the bedroom and left him in a nightmare. "No, no, no, no!"

There was a soft groan to his right. Armin shifted in sleep and his mouth flopped open sleepily. "Jeaaaan?" he yawned quietly with his eyes still closed and content.

This couldn't...No. This _was_ his reality. Marco was gone. Marco was _dead_! He had been taken away from him. He had been taken away from him!

Jean was physically silent as his mind screamed internally. His throat felt raw along with his eyes from the aftermath of his dream. The tears had stayed. Water pooled over his fingers, dripped down onto his clothes and dark blotches grew and faded over his trouser material.

He hated himself for crying but it was the only thing he could do. When he closed his mouth in an attempt to stay the flood he choked and when he closed his eyes it felt like he was going to explode. Armin stirred again at the noise so Jean had no choice. He felt around in the low light and heaved himself to his feet. He wiped his face on his sleeve yet it hardly did anything to help.

Through the dim light and water blocking his eyes the shapes making up his surroundings twisted and fluctuated around him to a highly dizzying effect. He staggered and stumbled out into the outside, however, he soon found himself kneeling on the grass. Jean felt numb; he hadn't noticed his legs collapsing underneath him and sending him onto his hands and knees.

"Da-ammit!" he spluttered. "Why am I so bloody weak?!" Jean demanded into the air, his voice stifled with emotion. "I didn't care about Marco. I didn't...care about him. S-So...WHY?!" The lies served no protection any longer, coming out as what they truly were immediately.

All too aware of his proximity to other people, Jean needed to get away, but with his legs shaking from grief and being surrounded by the other travellers there was nowhere he could go. He swore and almost bit his tongue as he did so. His eyes were unblinking even as tears made them sting and the morning light gave them nothing to see. His sprawled out hands curled back into fists and he pounded the ground.

 _CALM DOWN!_ Jean shouted at himself but it did little. The gates had opened uncontrollably and there was little he could do to stop it. Why had Marco died?! He didn't deserve it, and Jean didn't deserve this. _We didn't deserve...this._

The cloud came back. Rearing and lunging at Jean's mind. _Give up!_ it told him. _Marco's gone!_ But his anger drove it away with a surge of obsession. Marco _was_ gone. However, the sheer idea of letting the person who'd murdered him live on without punishment poisoned his blood.

No-one within the Three Walls had an easy life. Jean knew even the nobles lived in the fear of assassination that came with surrounding yourself with highly-trained soldiers looking out for themselves. Well, one life was going to get a whole lot harder. It would be worth it, for Marco.

Whether Jean slept again that night was up for debate. The time seemed to whittle away beyond the regular pace but dreams did not come and he wasn't naive enough to think his brain was that at rest. He didn't move and his eyes eventually managed to glaze over, however, he knew his mind had never turned off. They weren't even thoughts, just raw emotions consuming all shreds of logic housed there. A voice pulled Jean from this daze much later on, once the sun had risen from the edge to above the distant trees.

"Jean? Jean, where are you? Jean?"

Armin's cries struck a spark across Jean's temper like flint of steel. Jean forced some words out of his gritted teeth but didn't waste any effort with including reassurance for the frail civilian.

"Down here, Arlert."

He looked up and saw Armin's large eyes poke out from above in the wagon. "Oh. Why..." He seemed to consider Jean's odd placement. "Why are you down there?"

Jean ripped a fistful of grass out of the dirt and let them fall back down. "Because it's _so_ comfortable."

"Jean?" Armin said, concerned.

"I don't have to explain myself to you every single time I want to do something, Arlert." He got to his feet so he could stare Armin in the eyes rather than being stared down on instead. "What's going on today anyway? When d'you think we'll be at Wall Maria?"

Armin was frowning but he could read Jean's hot-headed mood as clearly as words on paper so he answered as simply as possible. "Around noon, considering the time we crossed Wall Rose yesterday."

Jean nodded curtly and didn't say another word to Armin for as long as he could, something the bright supervisor was quick to notice.

Long after Armin and Renata had sorted out their reports, packed everyone up and got into the wagon themselves Jean did not miss the worried glances Armin kept shooting him. Armin must have been groggy from just waking up and he had fallen asleep soon afterwards yet Jean had no idea how much the blonde had seen. To combat this possible lapse of weakness, Jean made a point to glare at him pointedly whenever the blue met brown. Maybe it was scaring him off but the soldier suspected that the secrecy only provoked his curiosity.

A chatter of small talk prevailed in the vehicle despite the frigid air surrounding Jean whose eyes snapped around in fervent wait for the first glimpses of Wall Maria. This would soon be over. This hell would soon be over. The Scouts were too small to be split up for long. Even if they weren't all there when he arrived, Jean was positive that it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Mr Arlert. You come from the Shiganshina district, do you not?" said Renata; Jean had only been vaguely listening by that point but the word 'district' had tricked him into thinking the subject was Trost.

Armin and Renata were both craning their necks to get a look outside. Jean leant back in his corner and stuck his head through the thick coarse fabric. His stomach tightened at the sight. Wall Maria lined the horizon, standing tall, unmoveable and strong in the distance. If Armin had grown up in Shiganshina and that was where everyone was going then it appeared that the young man still had his uses. Jean really had struck gold when it came to Armin Arlert.

"Um...J-Jean?" Armin said. "We'll have arrived quite soon. If you don't mind, I think everyone would appreciate your help in getting everyone sorted out. But after that, if you want to, you can go and do whatever you came here to do."

For a short second, Jean saw almost a plead in Armin's expression, as though he was concerned for Jean. He didn't understand why so Jean chose to turn away. If Armin seriously thought he wanted to stay with them beyond the journey then he wasn't as smart as he'd appeared. Jean could never say he wasn't intelligent but he definitely took him time to realise the obvious.

"I'm going to help finish this, Arlert, but after it's all done I'm not coming back. You lot can go on fine without me."

Renata frowned but all that did was dig at Jean's temper. It was like being chased by a pleading dog with these two.

From Jean's first impressions, he knew immediately that Shiganshina was not the type of place you would go on holiday to. As a southern district outside Maria, it didn't surprise Jean at all with its low-quality houses and lack of any decorations whatsoever. Coming from Trost it would have been a stark difference but after the Interior it might as well have been piles of stones rolling over each other. Accommodation for the influx of civilians had been set up all along the Wall in recently-assembled houses, throughout the city in renovated inns and just outside the gate in spaced out hamlets yet they weren't there just for the show.

Lines of stall wreathed in the faded spectrum and laden with whatever anyone could have asked for bulged in the cobblestone streets and swarming with merchants and civilians alike. Despite the date, there were already groups of travellers curling in and out of Jean's view, pursuing the sights. With those from Wall Sina, they did so with an air of quaint amusement, unaware that the shabbiness they saw was actually an improvement. The smell of potential was in the air and anyone who'd heard of the event had followed it to the gate. It would all disappear afterwards, Jean had no doubt about that, but for the time being it must have been exciting for the everyday residents.

As light brown eyes scanned the fairly grey surroundings the number of tourists who'd arrived before them bustled about like amicable sheep, waiting to be shepherded into line mostly by the Garrison with a handful of Military Police and the…

Jean bit his lip as his heart leapt against his ribcage. A rush of blood pounded in his forehead and cursed it with pain. He'd caught a glimpse of a green cloak, that shade of green now synonymous with death in the soldier's eyes. Jean shifted into a crouch so he could see further above and around. Dots of forest specked the rims of the Walls, watching. Waiting. Looming above. Their immovable alliance with blood in Jean's mind had expected to scare him, but the fear didn't come. Instead, Jean couldn't feel anything but rage at the sight. One of them had done it. One. Of. Them.

"Mr Kirschtein? You're scowling," said Renata.

"Yes. So?" Jean growled back through a clenched jaw. Renata thankfully lost her confidence to reply but to his annoyance, Jean knew that she had a point. _I am a Garrison member. I am_ not _a member of the Military Police on the lookout for a filthy murderer,_ he had to tell himself.

The wagon grinded to a halt, rattling Jean and Armin as it did so, and the latter's gazer turned to the former. "From what I can see you have two options at the moment. Renata has to find our manager and hand over our report immediately, but it's my job to gather some opinions for the time being."

There was a slyness to Armin's voice which was surprisingly well hidden, considering he was in the presence of Jean who easily deciphered the supervisor's meaning. Jean folded his arms and stared off at nothing in particular. There was a weight now on his shoulders like a heavy bag or the stress of a ticking clock but he had long since grown fed up of Armin's emotional analysis.

"Fine. I'll come with. Goodness knows you'll need it. It wouldn't surprise me one bit, Arlert, if you fainted, all these soldiers around and all."

Armin tried to smile and nod neutrally but then he realised that implied he agreed. Jean almost smiled at his confusion but definitely didn't feel like doing so under the watch of so many soldiers and Scouts. Jean gripped the hem of his jacket very tightly. With so many different Garrison soldiers it was stupid to think he'd be spotted as an imposter, and even then he could simply tell them he was MP, but a guilty conscious was not an easy thing to juggle when there were so many other things plaguing his mind.

"Goodbye Mr Arlert," said Renata, easily resuming her awkward speech. "I hope that you and Mr Kirschtein do not have any problems in gathering the information."

Armin smiled tightly. "Goodbye, Renata." He waved her farewell and she quickly sped out of their view towards wherever their manager turned out to be, her dusty hair swinging behind her and relieving one of the weights from Jean's chests. It was one less annoyance to deal with at least.

Armin nodded again and looked up to Jean who was arching his eyebrow conspiratorially. "Is you house near here, Arlert?"

"It's not too far away, but that wasn't actually what I wanted to see. My grandfather knows I have work to do so I doubt he'll be waiting for me. No, I arranged to meet my friends; the, er, two I told you about."

Jean rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter to me if you're skiving off work to see your friends or teddy bear, Arlert. I assume they're up on the Wall?" Armin agreed. "Good. 'Cause that's what _I_ want to get a good look at."

To tell the truth, it had come off far more suspiciously than he'd intended but before Armin even dared to press Jean hard already started towards the Wall. He'd seen Wall Sina during his job and looked after Trost after training before they'd sorted out the jobs for everyone but Wall Maria was different to all of them. It being the closest Wall to the Titan's territory, iron tracks traced the top as people buzzed around the steady line of cannons all trained on the outside. You could see Shiganshina in its entirety from this height. Makeshift rows of houses and shops blended into each other in the grey and the people seemed like dots, the tourists obvious due to them being recognisably brighter specks among the dull. But there were extensions all around the wall, preparations for the show which ranged from the added ways up to the rudimentary seating to even an added rail along the lines. Jean gazed down the side idly to see whether he could spot the Wall-Worshipers' rage from here.

The sun was nearing its peak in the sky so everything on top was bathed in light, forcing Armin to squint as he searched around for his friends.

"I thought they'd be hear already," he mused sadly, having not seen them yet. Jean didn't care. He was using his time to absorb as much information about the area as he could while Armin wandered off in search.

The Scouts were already placing targets on their backs by wearing their green cloaks while the small amount of Military Police members blended into the more plentiful Rose-backed soldiers. While the others tended to the restless crowd below, the green hoods patrolled the Wall while almost ignoring everyone else, their eyes fixated on the horizon beyond any of the Walls. Their base was centred just outside Shiganishina so Jena wondered why they were so focused on something not relevant to the show in a few days until he realised with a flash of embarrassment.

The flash died within the second appeared since no-one outside of Jean's head knew he'd made a mistake but it then kindled into an strange burning equal fear and curiosity. Jean, like the vast majority of humans, had never actually laid eyes on an actual titan before. They'd presented drawings in training and they'd made him fight wooden replicas but an _actual_ titan?

His feet moved and Jean wasn't sure whether it was of his own accord or not. He edged closer and closer to the drop and went to peek over the fence and...

"Hey! What're you doing!?"

Jean snapped up straight and whipped around for the source of the shout, an angry retort already loaded on the tip of his tongue. Then he found the source and swallowed it with a dark triumph, realising he wouldn't have to do much.

"D'you need a hand, or is that about the only thing you haven't lost, Jaeger?" Jean sneered as an all-too-familiar soldier hobbled over to him, glowering with the intimidation of a rabbit tripping over its own ears.

He had seen better days but Jean felt no sympathy since too many of those 'better days' had been spend annoying Jean. From what Jean could immediately tell, Jaeger was only completely missing an ear, which was covered by a stained bandage lining his head, but a gash lined his cheek and his moments betrayed the other injured cloaked by the green and his jacket. To Jean's delight, the cocky, falsely-superior light in Jaeger's eyes was gone, replaced by something more sober but no less loud.

"Jean..." he growled in an oh-so intelligent manner. Jaeger sounded more like a disgruntled dog that anything else, specifically the kind that couldn't do more than nip at your ankles.

"Eren!" came yet another voice.

 _Here, Miss Teacher_ , Jean mocked in his head but then even that fell quiet while his eyes and mouth gaped at the sight.

Raven hair flowed through the air like a trail of midnight that was mirrored in her calm eyes that stole Jean's breath from him with hardly a glance. The cream skin was flawless, as was the rest of her. A true beauty. A true goddess...until she reached out for Eren's arm with the forest cloak of a Scout rippling out of its way.

"I'm _fine_ , Mikasa!" Eren snapped, wrenching his arm out of her grip with a minute cry of pain. The anger in Jean continued to bubble as her expression grew concerned for _him_. Why?

"But..."

"Fine!"

She retracted her hand, which had been drifting back to Eren, and turned slowly to me. "Jean? Why would you be here of all places?"

"Yeah," Eren scoffed. "I thought you were all happy about getting into the Military Police."

Jean scowled, his nose wrinkling in hatred for Eren, but he shifted intentionally to hide his back from the two Scouts. "Well it looks like you managed to notice something, Jaeger." He brandished his hand and held it to his ear. "Considering all you've missed. How did you get that? Were the titans so scared you got cut up in pursuit, or is it the more realistic option that you just got yourself handed to you?"

Eren backed away with a wide glassy look when something drew the two Scouts' attention away from Jean. "There you two are! Thank goodness."

Armin jogged over to his friends, a massive smile overtaking his face which was barely returned. Mikasa was, well, _Mikasa_ and Eren appeared too angry and distracted to properly beam in kind, something Armin noticed immediately.

His eyes skipped from each of the three opposing pairs as he spoke but his tone was still as if he was the introducer. "This is Jean Kirschtein. He helped me and my partner get here safely from Wall Sina. D-Do you...know him?"

"Training," Mikasa explained. "He was the sixth in our class."

 _Something I was_ trying _to forget!_ But then Jean shrugged inwardly. It didn't matter in hindsight. At the rate Eren was going, he wasn't going to survive past the next month so Jean would win in the end.

"R-Really?" Armin shot his pseudo-guard an odd look, clearly realising where the sudden tension had manifested.

"Yeah. Jean went off to the Military Police because apparently the _Interior_ ," Eren warbled the word, "isn't full enough of enough selfish prats without him clogging it up. Meanwhile, I'm actually trying to do some good out there, defeating the titans!"

Jean couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly at Eren's surety. "The chances of you doing anything to 'defeat the titans' is the same as Armin taking on me bare-handed, or with any weapon."

Armin's eyebrows furrowed together into a line across his fringe-covered forehead. Jean waved him off dismissively. "Don't bother denying it, Arlert. From what I've seen, you're both useless." On bidding goodbye to another soldier, the protocol and polite thing to do was to salute but Jean didn't think they were worth it. He turned his back on them and started off to find where in the world he was supposed to be staying.

Jaeger and Ackermann. Two Scouts he knew. After travelling for three days you couldn't have offered Jean the palace to talk to those idiots for any longer. Although, tomorrow they would serve a greater purpose.


	6. Chapter 6

After so much, Jean hadn't exactly been wishing for sleep so he'd left the lamp in the corner burning long past midnight. The small flickers made the shadows of his low tent dance like ghosts against the fabric. His pillow waved, the pile of clothes in the corner swayed and the small rucksack they'd given him rolled. The solitary amber light source hit the coarse material and made it glow. The air was cold and bitter from night and the sounds of rustling people spanning the entire camp furled into each other to create a low grumbling roar. If you combined that with the noise of the faraway trees and animals Jean hardly needed the flame to keep him awake.

Ever since his dream, Jean had tried to stay up until his mind was too exhausted to create any more. His body was weary but alit by his growling obsession. Every time he moved, it was out of determination. Every time he spoke, it was to further his plan. Jaeger and Ackermann had been useful enough. Apparently the security of their own regiment had been lax recently due to the preparations. Once again his thoughts managed to deepen the scowl etched into his face. This was such a pointless charade. All of the effort for, what, convincing a bunch of idiots that the titan still existed? That the Scouting Regiment can actually do their job? That humanity had a chance in this war? Jean highly doubted either of the last two could be proven by watching some soldiers flaunt their abilities to a crowd. It was all a bunch of…

There was a crack outside. Jean lurched upright off his mat-bed and scanned around the area, his eyebrows set into a straight angry line. He reached around – for what he didn't know – and kept his eyes on the entrance but then the shadow outside came close enough for Jean to make out the silhouette.

His finger pressed to his lip, Armin ducked his head under the material and crawled inside. Jean was seething.

"Arlert, what are you..?" he began to hiss but Armin, as foolish as he was, shushed the soldier.

"Jean, you'll have to be quiet. People are sleeping."

Brown eyes narrowed. "So? You're awake and you don't seem to be respecting that rule."

"Yes, well, I knew you would be awake. I don't think I've disturbed any others though."

"How..?"

Armin pointed to the dim lamp resting on the grassy floor next to Jean's hand. The hand curled up into a fist, something Jean didn't mind Armin noticing seeing as he was _so_ observant. Maybe he would catch a hint eventually.

"Listen, Arlert. Whatever you've got to say; I don't care. Go back to bed."

"No, Jean."

Jean stared. Since when was Armin so assertive?

The blonde lowered from his crouch so he was sitting on the bed of green blades and staring straight and fearlessly into Jean's eyes. He wasn't quivering even the slightest, but Jean suspected this stranger in front of him was the product of several days' confidence built up into one. He leant forwards and played with the grass below but his eyes did not flicker from Jean's. While in the brown you would find fire, in the blue Jean found ice.

"Jean, I need you to give me some answers. I understand that you don't owe me anything-"

"You're right. You don't." Jean crossed his arms and glared but Armin folded his arms in kind.

" _But_ , you have to talk to me. I...I saw you. You were crying, a-and you haven't slept since. I don't know what you've been through, but I want to know; maybe I could even help. Why are you here? Why did you abandon the Military Police to come here with me?" Armin's eyes finally lost their strength and fell, looking at anything other than Jean's eyes. His voice dimmed and his hands tore at the grass more frequency.

"W-Was i-it...because of...Mr Bott?"

Jean's pupils shrank. His breath left him and his muscles began to shake the rest of his body despite the soldier clenching his jaw and arms to stop it.

"Eren, Mikasa and I were told about it by this one MP we met – I think he came down with some people from Wall Sina – and he told us about an incidence and-"

"Shut the hell up, Arlert!" Jean almost whispered. The words had become wisps on the wind in pursuit of his stolen breath. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think your reaction just proved that wrong," said Armin.

The brunette growled but its fierceness was muffled by his still prevalent grief. "Yes. He was murdered. I...I'm here to track the bastard murderer down. I know it was a Scout, Armin. The thief used ODM gear to escape and I _definitely_ saw a green cloak. Whoever it is, they're here and they won't be leaving. I promise."

A different kind of fear now kindled in the blue. He leant forwards, closer to and imploringly at Jean. "I don't think you'll find the criminal here. The Scouts don't really allow their members to wander off and even then you would have to find a Scout who could get to Wall Sina and back without resistance."

"So you think I'm wrong?!"

Like prey faced with a predator, Armin yelped. "N-N-No!" Then in a much smaller voice, he said, "Well, yes. I don't think it's the right conclusion. No-one Eren or Mikasa knew could have done it at least and you just can't-"

Jean was done listening. Marco would not go unavenged. The Scouts would _not_ come out of this unpunished. The taut muscles that pulled his hand into a fist and locked his mouth so he could barely talk snapped upwards. His knuckled curled round and Jean punched Armin in the face. The young supervisor flew back with a dull, sickly 'thud' and drops of his blood fell into the air like the reverse of rain.

Armin cried out and held his face in both his palms, rolling on the dark grass while Jean watched with a furious indifference to his pain.

"Do yourself a favour, Arlert: shut up and leave! _Don't_. Tell. Anyone! Or you will be in even more pain. Got it?"

He couldn't answer with words anymore. Armin gurgled in a painful attempt to stop crying and, while wiping the blood from his nose, he scrambled away with difficultly. His eyes flashed with the glint of water but other than that Jean didn't read the shorter's expression. However, he didn't let his eyes off him. A blonde head was soon swallowed by the darkness outside until he was just as insignificant and unseen as every other person in the camp. When he saw no-one else, they might as well have not existed.

They stayed that way for a long time. However, the day of the actual show came startlingly soon. The gradual build-up of incoming people seemed to explode into endless hoards of people from all across the three Walls. The different looks, the different colours in their clothes, the different classes. They all melted together into something loud and obnoxious and uncontainable.

There was a hum in the air that manifested in a strange atmosphere, unable to be categorised into either tension or anticipation. It showed itself in different ways depending on who the eyes fell onto. The tourists buzzed around Shinganshina and the surrounding camps, pursuing the stalls and generally chattering; the regular citizens ambled around in their now alien streets, commonly too poor to partake in the activities set aside for the Interior citizens yet couldn't help but marvel at the finery; and the military were dotted around the walls and streets, keeping all their eyes out for danger and looming everywhere.

Technically Jean was one of them but he was avoiding them as much as he could, forcing his way through the innumerable people with an aura of unmistakable danger that warned most people away. All the others were shoved aside with no thought.

The timer was counting down with even more urgency now. It seemed impossible. How could he only have an hour left? An hour to figure out what he was going to do. His insistence on ignoring his plans for the sake of his sanity had now left him on a precipice without any way up or down. Jean was trapped...unless he could take advantage of his surroundings.

Jean stopped. He turned his head and gazed down the stone staircase he'd been climbing. Scouts lined the Wall but other soldiers took up the bulk of the patrols. _Of course_ , Jean grumbled mentally. _They'll all be preparing_. The rest of his body followed his head and the solider started running back down. The plan forming in his mind was rudimentary at best but it had worked before.

The Scouts wouldn't be near the gates yet. The bulk of them would be getting ready out of the public's sight so all Jean needed to do was find that place. The street leading out of Shiganshina and into the titans' territory was scattered with people chirping about but as he sped in and out of the long stretch, Jean caught someone's eye.

He didn't think to stop, however, it had been one man with two others: a scarlet-haired person wearing goggles and a very short man with a short black haircut leering around at whoever he could see. The person who'd spotted Jean was a tall blonde man. All three were draped in green with the heavy ODM gears weighing by their sides.

Even in that brief moment he later dismissed, Jean could sense the importance surrounding that trio by the gate.

Back inside Wall Maria, the vast green hosting the almost uncountable crowds plunged Jean's mind into panic. In the early days Jean could have noticed a Scout by their distinct cloak but now it was too easily washed away in civilian fashion. He wandered along the foot-trodden paths in the field, his eyes darting around erratically, then a crack of hope broke through the confusion.

"Jaeger! Mi...er, Ackermann!" Jean called, cupping his hands over his mouth but not waiting for their response. He ran over to the two Scouts who appeared, on closer inspection, to be arguing. Neither looked happy to see Jean but that didn't matter. In fact, it made his proposal seem all the better.

Eren's eyes darkened once he recognised the voice but when he spoke, it had a pleased lilt. "What d'you want, Jean?"

Mikasa's expression was equally dark. "I'm sorry but we don't have the time."

"Yeah. Starts in less than an hour, doesn't it?" Jean enjoyed his height because at moments like this he could easily look down on the two of them, casting a shadow of power which was perfect for 'negotiation'. Brown irises moved to Eren and his many injuries without any care for subtlety. "Do you think you'll be up for it, Jaeger?"

The brunette flashed his teeth and held up a fist. It shook without any real strength, weakened from the long gash running down the forearm. Jean's expression flickered. The wound didn't fit anything titan. _Were you so bad you actually managed to cut_ yourself _?_ Jean couldn't help but wonder with an incredulity so strong he was close to being impressed.

"'Course. I'll defeat _all_ the titans!" Eren boasted proudly, to Mikasa's unease. Her face darkened further and her pale hand wavered over Eren's shoulder, so close to comforting him yet restrained in the memory of before.

"Eren... _please_. Please don't." The softness in her voice was dismissed by Eren with a jerk away but it was not overlooked by Jean.

"Because," Jean continued, "you don't look like you'd survive one minute out there, Jaeger. The moment Mikasa takes her eyes off you, you're going to die. You know that, right?"

The Eren he knew from training would have continued to live in denial but something must have sobered him. It could have been the fact Jean's words were the truth but it wasn't like Eren to actually recognise that. Eren faced away awkwardly and Mikasa met Jean's gaze.

"Jean. Wha..?"

"Mikasa, it's the truth. How the hell is he planning to take down a titan when he's one bandage away from bleeding to death? I doubt that you'll be allowed to look after him, y'know. They'll have the more talented soldiers in the spotlight. The others..." He glimpsed back to Eren. "...will probably be hidden in the back, away. Away from everyone else in case they screw up."

"What're you doing, Jean? Did you come over just to insult me 'cause you know you chose the wrong one? Want the attention, do you? You can shove off, you-"

Mikasa put her hand on Eren's chest. It was a warning gesture emphasised by the accidently force she applied so it was more like a curt push. She didn't say anything to him but instead addressed Jean. "What _are_ you implying?" she asked.

Jean hesitated, yet it might as well have been a mere breath. He straightened up and his expression hardened, confident. "It's simple; I want to take Eren's place."

"What!? Not on your-"

The young woman once again interrupted her friend. "Why? Why are you doing this for him?"

Although he wasn't confident how to look, Jean pretended he did. " _I_ don't want this show to be ruined. I'm pretty sure a death of one of the Scouts would put a bit of a damper on the festivities, and the commanders' plan."

Finally, the anger in the sea green ebbed for confusion to replace them. "Plan? What plan?"

Jean arched an eyebrow. "It seems pretty obvious to me," he said, a corner of his mouth twitching. "This is all to scare the public so they can continue needing the military. Didn't Arlert explain this to you?"

Eren's eyebrows knitted together. "What? Why would we need to scare the public? They're scared enough of the frigging titans! Nah. They're not going to be _scared_ , not after we're done. Haven't you heard? Captain Levi's gonna be fighting. It'll be great!"

Thankfully, at least Mikasa understood. Jean waved arrogantly with his hand, trying to rile the injured soldier up even further. "Hey, Ackermann, you could just knock him out. Then this would go a lot faster."

Mikasa frowned. Eren retreated, his eyes wide and nervous. "Wh-Why d'you think _you'll_ do any better, Jean? You've never seen a titan. You're not even a Scout. You're just a lazy MP!"

Jean shrugged. "Yeah, but I've got one thing on you; I've got all my body parts intact and working. You on the other hand..."

"I was fifth place!"

"Barely, and goodness knows it wasn't your skill that got you that far. It was only because you were the only one dumb enough to care."

"Still..!"

"And, _Jaeger_ , I don't even have to fight them – not that I couldn't – because I can actually use my gear instead of prating around or whatever you were doing."

"Mikasa!" Eren searched for support, however, it was not what he found.

Her face was still in thought but tinged with enough concern to make Jean's insides light up with triumph. This was going to work!

"Eren..." she began slowly, focusing on her words. "Give your jacket and gear to Jean."

"WHAT!?"

"Eren! Please. I don't want you getting hurt."

"So what? You trust _Jean_ over me?!"

"No, but you haven't healed enough."

"I'm fine!"

"Just give him the jacket, Eren! This might be the only thing that can save you. You know the Commander; he only needs as many people as the plan dictates. You can stay safe with Armin."

"I won't! I'm needed." He threw up his arms in frustration but that gesture sent a jolt of pain running through his body. That was the final straw. The ODM gear tipped his balance and Eren would have fallen if not for Mikasa's hand flicking out at the last moment, but the damage was already done.

"Don't do this, Eren. You're not fit enough. Everything will be fine if Jean takes your place. Nothing will be lost. You'll be fine."

Eventually Eren managed to stagger back into an upright standing. Everything had drained from his face, leaving it like chalk. The moment of exertion had caused a surprising amount of pain in the brown-haired soldier and it left him completely defeated.

A shivering hand rose to his brown collar. Eren tore the jacket off and threw it at Jean's feet. With aching, paining, and angry hands Eren unbuckled the straps tightened around his waist and chest until the metal equipment clattered to the ground. Jean had to hide his victorious smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for such the long wait for this chapter (sorry LostMyPen). Easter left me a bit busy but I made sure to finish this before it got to hectic.**

 **Hope you enjoy and thank you to everyone who's reading this :)**

* * *

Eren had been quick to leave the two of them after that, muttering contemptuously under his breath about 'traitors' and many other words Jean could have easily fired back at him, some of which he did, to Mikasa's disapproval.

He sneered in response. "What? He's gone. It's done. And hey, I just saved his life. You said it – well, not _aloud_ – but you practically said it yourself."

Her lips tightened and her lovely dark eyes shifted away towards the walled horizon. "I just...don't want him to be in danger. It was bad enough when he ran away to join but then I made a promise to his mum..."

Jean groaned internally. Mikasa's voice edged him on but he honestly did not give a single damn about Eren and his life. The bastard ran away to throw his life away? That didn't surprise Jean. He could have guessed that considering how weak he was and how Mikasa acted around him. The idiot ending up without his ear and with a ton of wounds hadn't shocked him either. The fact he still had arms was the only weird thing.

"How long did it take?" Jean asked. Confusion flashed through her expression so he elaborated, allowing himself a smile, even if it was void of any benevolence. "For him to get mauled, I mean. What's the story behind all that?" He gestured roughly to his own ears and arms.

Danger sparked in the air around the raven-haired soldier which would have made even Jean feel scared. It would have if only he hadn't built all those walls of anger. They muffled all words beyond any reason. His heart was water-proof to tears and too cold for fire to hurt it. Mikasa must have read this because the embers began to wane, replaced by concern in curiosity's clothing.

"Jean..." she warned but he wasn't going to relent. His features contorted into stone. Mikasa's expression became equally emotionless as though it was some kind of competition between masks.

"It was our first mission outside the Walls: simple recon. For what, I'm not too sure. But Eren refused to adhere fully to the Commander's instructions. We were the look-outs. Commander Erwin has always focused on evasion rather than a full-on assault, for the obvious reasons. When the outer ranks notice a titan they're supposed to notify the others by shooting up a flare. However..."

Jean almost couldn't believe it. Jaeger was an utter, complete moron yet this seemed to be crossing the line of reality. It seemed too impossibly idiotic.

"I only just managed to save him. He was the first casualty of the mission and because of it..." Mikasa furrowed her narrow eyebrows. "It was one of the factors that led to its abortion."

"So Jaeger's not exactly in the Scouts' favour?" Jean rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Not surprising. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that one of the others would off him."

The young woman didn't say anything further but her silence, so different from usual, was all the answer anyone would need. It wasn't only the titans and Jean who had a death wish for the bombastic Scout. If only he hadn't needed to take Eren's place. Jean would have traded Eren's life for Marco's without a single moment for breath although for the sake of needing the time to avenge his friend, Jean chose not to voice that thought in Mikasa's presence.

There was an awkward atmosphere that kept thickening as both Jean and Mikasa were forcing out small talk. Jean had to pretend he knew where he was going and that he was doing so legitimately so it had to look like he was distracted only by conversation.

The ODM gear felt heavy on his sides and he had to get used to walking in it again but it still hadn't been _that_ long since graduation so he couldn't find a reason to doubt himself. The equipment felt as natural to him as it did back then and despite having the so-called 'Wings of Freedom' emblazed on his back, it was strangely right. He _had_ actually had fun, soaring through the forests and even the fields on ODM. Jean was talented so of course he enjoyed the times he could put it to use. That was the one thing the Military Police didn't have.

Jean almost froze. The past was as transparent as glass, the future as opaque as gravel. In his attempts to avoid the poison he couldn't turn to the former. However, in doing so all thoughts of his next step dissolved. Could he really return to the Military Police after all this? The thought of Hitch and Marlowe turned his mouth acrid with disgust.

"Here," Mikasa whispered from the corner of her mouth, gesturing blandly with her hand to an enormous marquee. On the outside it was lined with Scouts and Jean assumed it was full of them on the inside as well.

"Where are _we_ going?" Jean breathed back. "Do we belong on the outside or in?"

"Not every Scout participates. You and I are so we need to be inside for the briefing. Just follow my lead and no-one will have a reason to suspect anything. No-one knows everyone."

Jean nodded and followed Mikasa's lead. She shepherded him through the large ceiling of coarse material and into the crowd inside. Some already donned the green cloak but the surprising majority were like Mikasa and I, only wearing the brown jackets and equipment. There was a lively chatter from all the many conversations melting together and more heads than Jean could count at that stage but that fact didn't prevent his eyes from darting about, scanning every person they fell on. He kept searching, barely containing his surging fanatasism, for the thief. The proximity churned his insides yet Jean felt like fire in his blindness. He was so close he could almost wring their neck, yet he had no idea which person he was aiming for.

His agitation once again led to him standing with uncharacteristic fidgeting, something Mikasa's sharp eyes were quick to catch.

"Are you not as confident as you said, Jean?" she asked coolly.

Jean scowled. "I'm fine. I-"

"Jean!"

Nearby heads whipped around at the outcry with scanning, confused gazes. A pair of light brown eyes eventually met blue. Jean swore and quickly turned but it didn't fool the pursuer for even a moment. Jean slapped away a hand and curled his fingers around Armin's wrist.

"Remember what I said, Arlert?" Jean growled menacingly. "Leave me alone!"

Jean had hoped that would be enough but then he felt pain stab at his upper arm, forcing his hand to spring open and release Armin. His other hand flew to his arm to massage the aftermath of Mikasa's jab.

He grinded his teeth as the dark-haired soldier faced her friend. "Armin, what's going on?"

Armin's eyes widened incredulously. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Why did you let Jean take Eren's place?"

Mikasa furrowed her eyebrows. "Wha..? How did you find out?"

"Eren just passed me."

"Dammit." His voice brought Armin's attention back to Jean who was still half-facing away.

"Jean, you can't do this! It's too dangerous. Do you know what will happen if you get caught?"

"Armin," said Mikasa. "Jean asked me and I had to let him. It was this or putting Eren in danger again. Jean was one of the best with his ODM gear so he can do it. He won't be caught."

Armin threw up his arms in frustration, or at least did so partially. The supervisor had become startlingly aware of everyone surrounding him and the many eyes they'd now attracted so he kept his elbows by his side, trying to reduce the space he was taking up.

" _That's_ not what I mean, Mikasa. It's something…else. Jean, you're the main suspect. There was an MP – his name was Freudenberg, I think – and he says that they're after you!"

Now it was Mikasa's turn to look surprised. "Suspect?! Jean, what..?"

Jean held up a fist at Armin, shaking with fury. "Don't you _dare_ , Arlert! This has nothing to do with you _or_ them! What I'm doing doesn't concern the MP anymore. They gave up."

"No they haven't. They're…"

"Looking for the wrong person," Jean pressed further. His voice lowered and deepened into something more like a wolf's growl than human words. "Armin, I don't care what you think. Why hasn't that drilled through your thick skull yet?"

"Because this is _not_ the way to go about things!" Armin cried, desperation pitching his voice into even more of a wail. "Jean, the most likely situation is that the thief was just a thief. Crimes happen all the time in the Interior; you have to accept that! Nothing leads to them being a Scout!"

Jean lurched towards the supervisor but Mikasa quickly stepped between the two. "Jean!" He looked lazily from Armin to Mikasa. "What are planning? I thought you..." She stopped herself, a wise move, yet Jean didn't let it slide. He latched onto the slip-up like his anger was magnetic. All his former respect for Mikasa evaporated in his rage and it boiled into cruelty. He hushed his voice with his last drop of self-control but it was no less harsh.

"What? What, Ackermann? Tell me! Did you think I actually cared about Jaeger? That I _wanted_ to save his life? I'll do it, but that is _not_ why I'm doing this."

Anger flared in the air but this time it was Armin's job to restrain Mikasa. He didn't do it physically, however, his presence seemed to remind her of the people surrounding them. That was the only thing keeping any of them from attacking the other. The dark of Mikasa's irises were so alight and heated that she might have set the grass below on fire.

"Everyone!" A loud clear bark broke through the tension and the heads of Mikasa, Jean and Armin all snapped forwards.

The source was a tall, muscular man with short blonde hair and monstrous eyebrows. He stood with his legs planted apart confidently and the green cloak draped over his shoulders but parted so the straps of his ODM stretched over his chest and a turquoise bolo tie could be seen. The man folded his arms behind his back in an instantly commanding pose.

Jean flicked back to Armin with an arrogantly arched eyebrow. "Armin, I'd scram if I was you," he whispered. "You can't do anything now."

Too many desperate emotions began twisting at Armin's face. Distaste twitched the corners of his lips downwards; protest pulled his mouth ajar; fear quivered in his eyes; and his forehead was creased in concern. However, in the end his weakness won out, if such a thing could happen. Armin ducked his head and edged out from the tent.

Mikasa held herself like stone in front of Jean so you could have believed that she wasn't even breathing. She wasn't doing to start a conflict in front everyone, especially with the Commander right there, but she was not happy about it. Jean subtly stepped away from Mikasa, hoping to lose her after the briefing was done, and resumed his search while paying the least amount of attention he could to the Scouts' leader.

"This day is of the upmost importance to the people within in the Walls. The Scouting Regiment _needs_ this day to succeed if we are to continue. The public must understand their taxes have not gone to waste!"

Jean quietly scoffed. _As if_ anything _you all do doesn't go to waste. You do realise that you're doing a grand total of nothing for humanity, right?_

He continued to turn his head, scanning methodically while the Commander prattled on in an overly-important voice.

"For the sake of safety – for you and the public – we have set up a perimeter quarter of a mile away from Wall Maria to divert any and all titans that we do not wish to tackle head on. However, the majority of the kills will take place within a tenth of a mile.

"The majority of titans allowed within the radius of the show will be of the three to six metre class. Seven metres will be permitted but anything above seven will be swiftly taken out or led away by one of the border teams."

Jean glanced back and saw the blonde gesturing to some chart being held up by someone to his side. It looked like an uncomfortable job in retrospect. _Who would get paid to hold up sheets of paper all day?_

"You will take on the titans in groups – solo kills have the potential endanger the mission – yet we are on a timer. Always remember the borders. They will be dealing with the titans of larger classes and will not be there indefinitely."

There was short sort-of laugh to his other side and the Commander strangely deferred to the person instead of reprimanding them. They were the red-haired and goggled person from before. A wide, scarily maniacal grin stretched across their excited face which made Jean almost back away from the crazy radiation. He managed to stop himself in the act but he did take another glimpse around the room. That was two out of three yet Jean couldn't spot the third, the short one he'd seen with the insane duo.

The soldier was alight with a dangerous energy that Jean was convinced shouldn't have been allowed in the military. They bounced on the heels of their feet and seemed to be wringing their hands eagerly. Not a good sign to say the least.

"With all the human activity around Wall Maria we're _bound_ to encounter lots of titans: maybe even some fourteen metres, or _abnormals_!"

They were _definitely_ too happy to say that.

"So the number on the borders will far outweigh the ones on the field. If you spot one, send up a black flare and we'll dispatch one of the senior squads. Try not to kill it too soon!"

"Do not approach the abnormals unless you have been given the order to do so. Anything out of the ordinary poses a threat." The Commanded looked awfully quick to jump in. As he continued his briefly Jean realised he was going back to what each group would do so Jean resumed tuning him out. He wasn't going to both with the Commander's precious plan anyway.

Thankfully it didn't take long for the Scout to shut up finally. There was a sudden sound and Jean found everyone else saluting. Jean wasn't going to salute a Scout but still managed to fake an invested look in case anyone's eyes darted his way.

The Commander's actually quite striking blue eyes crawled across the crowd of heads before him, scanning all the soldiers like a wave of cold rushing through the marquee. His eyes shooting wide, Jean's gaze rushed away. Even when turned Jean could feel the Commander's eyes boring into him, trying to break into his mind. He was almost grateful when the still cracked into the bustling of movement that came with the Commander's dismissal.

A surprising minority of people were wearing the iconic hoods as everyone slowly, but chaotically, filed out of the tent like the flow of a river. The rattling of the ODM gears and the muffled clamour of footsteps on grass filled the air along with the shuffling bodies of soldiers. The movement pulled Jean along with them and he allowed it for the moment; it wasn't as if a plan had magically appea...

A flash of dark green. A flash of dark brown.

His blood disappeared. Ice flooded his veins in its stead. His breath disappeared. Fire swam in his lungs. The battle surging through Jean's body left one no-man's land: his face.

They were a masculine figure under the short hooded cloak. Jean looked past the young woman blocking his way and he felt his body surging through the crowd. Pushing his way closer and closer. But there were people in the way. Groans were coaxed out of the people as Jean's elbow butted them out of his path and anger rose as the soldiers shoved him back in turn. He tried to cut through. The thief was there. The murderer was _there_. So close to him it was agonising!

Jean's hand lunged out, stabbing through the heads and shoulders but his clawing hand fell short, just missing the oak-brown hair snaking out of the damned green hood. Jean stumbled as a breeze smacked his face. He was outside. This sudden realisation cracked through his mind and the enormous roar of a thousand people chattering lowly at once.

His eyes darted back and locked onto the crowd lining Wall Maria. So many people. All here for... _what_?! The blood in Jean boiled with renewed anger. So many people had been brought here for the Scouting Regiment's _bloody farce_! His face contorted with disgust, wrinkling his nose and clenching his fists. The Commander was a moron.

He shook his head and remembered his mission. "I won't let you get away!" Jean growled under his breath. The earth was soft under his boots but outside the Walls the grass was wild and long. Despite the blades snagging and snatching at his feet, Jean started to run. The bustle of Scouts was thinning and the obstacles in his path moved away. All around him there were soldiers shooting off on the ODM to their positions on their Commander's precious plan, but the bastard kept going forwards, so that's what Jean did as well.

Around the two of them there were plenty of people hanging around, waiting. For what Jean didn't care to think about until it was right in front of him.

The ashen-haired soldier staggered to a halt. His mouth falling open and his eye bulging in their sockets. The combined mumbling died as if everyone was struck down simultaneously. Every pair of eyes made their way to the pounding ground and followed the shaking to its source in fear.

 _Thud!_

Jean's chest was flattened by his own shock.

 _Thud!_

Gasps rang out throughout the Walls.

 _Thud!_

It was horrific. It was horrible. It was a titan.

Despite his years of training Jean's throat constricted in dread and he gagged on his own failed breathing. All rational thought escaped him. The only words he could muster were already falling from his mouth over and over and over.

"I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed..."

Five metres tall – three times taller than Jean – with baggy, inhuman human skin, the titan trudged closer and closer, leaving deep muddy footprints and causing the ground to reverberate in front of it. Monstrous, watery black eyes snapped from prey to prey in its twisted face with features stretched like old leather over dead meat. Those eyes were full of mindless hunger, a desperation to kill and eat every person it saw, including Jean. Its stomach was swollen and furled down, swaying grotesquely with the kick of each colossal step. Its teeth, flat and wheat-yellow, were bared with the titan's lips pulled sickening over its gums and short, coarse hair sank across its forehead.

As Jean stared he was filled with horror. _H-How can there be_ more _of these monsters!? Oh, gosh no. How can they be_ bigger _?!_ Even inside his own skull the words were pitching and warbled with terror. He didn't care about what the hell the Scouts were doing. In the shadow of this repulsive beast, Jean swore; he would _never_ be a part of their utterly insane plan. They could die without him.

"FOR THE SCOUTS!"

Jean's body seized up so he was standing as if his spine just cracked into a metal rod. The voices of distant announcers exploded in an attempt to cover the horror as effective as throwing a bucket of paint on a wall. Although, horror was the point.

Then he swore loudly and swung his head around. Scouts were hurling themselves the titan as more slowly filed into the makeshift area formed by the natural barrier of tall oaks. The crowd's fright slowly mixed with an excitement being riled up by the nearby announcers but Jean's eyes narrowed forwards.

He caught the thief once more and refused to let him leave his sight again. He must have been on the border patrol. Perfect. Jean didn't smile – his face was weighed down with his hatred – but instead his expression skewed cruelly.

Jean raised the dual blades gleaming on their twin handles and with a burst of gas he lurched into the air. He shot up, dragged by the hooks that pressed and pulled at the straps wrapping his entire body. His eyes widened automatically, taking in as much as he could without even needing to think about it. In that moment of flight all his training came back with a rush as though he'd never left. He took in all the distances between him and every post for the hooks to lock onto. He made a note of all the people around him, but most importantly, he focused on his target.

The soldier allowed a moment of freefall before shooting the wires into the ground and throwing himself away from the titan to his enemy, ignoring the tremors the titan's roars sent down his back. That fight was someone else's fight: something for the suicidal bastards heading their way.

It was like a sole fire in the middle of a dark night. Nothing else was visible to Jean but the light was not something safe. The wind pressed the skin against his face as he sped up, allowing his momentum to propel him when the ODM couldn't escalate him any further.

The murderer eased onto the grass from his ODM, scratching his head underneath his hood; he was completely unaware of Jean behind him. He strolled around and paced carelessly, looking around for the nonexistent titans and then a thought struck Jean like a club.

Marco's life was taken by a Scout. Marco's life was taken by this _bastard_ who felt like ambling around the edge of a show. Marco's life was not worth less than this Scout's life.

Jean was moving but everything was a blur, lost to a wrath so hot and so cold it hurt.

But it didn't hurt as much as Marco's death.

Jean retracted the hooks and they snapped back into the ODM. With nothing suspending him any longer, he could manipulate his fall to end with a kick to the thief's back. He crumpled to the floor immediately.

But it didn't hurt as much as a knife.

Jean unsheathed a set of blades and slashed them through the air, making sure he was used to them. The thief was scrambling back and crying out, however, the spot on the east edge was far from both the rest of the border patrol and the audience far away. The handles were heavy in his hands after the weeks of not practicing.

But it wasn't as heavy as Jean's heart. The only sound was it pounding ferociously in his rib cage like a rabid animal baying for blood. That animal took home in Jean's chest and in Jean's head. His vision was tinted the red of blood and dulled the shade of steel.

Jean walked closer and pressed the heel of his boot down hard on the thief's foot. He pushed it further into the ground to assert that the thief could not escape his punishment.

Marco was better than this. Marco would always be a better man than the pathetic murderer at Jean's feet. Marco was a better man than Jean would ever be, despite his consistent insistence that the latter was a good, moral man.

The swords gleamed strangely as they were raised closer to the cloud-covered sunlight and Jean bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Marco was kind and Marco was honest. But he had been wrong before.


	8. Chapter 8

It took Jean too long to come out of his daze. The anger didn't leave, but slowly his focus returned.

He found he was standing almost alone in the boundary of a thick forest. Trees blanketed the surrounding area; the leaves of each tree melded into each other above his head and created a sheet, dulling any incoming sunlight. The ground beneath his boots was long and wild from the absence of humans which was even further shown by the moss enveloping the bark. It was strange for Jean to see after spending the majority of his life between Wall Rose and Maria, not that he could spare much time to think about that.

Because Jean was not by himself. There was a distant roar of people and titans alike in the background, and, more immediately, a body. The fallen blades of Eren's ODM were strewn on the mud some way away from Jean's feet as he strolled away mindlessly. He didn't know what he was doing yet; his mind was too murky to decipher any of his incoherent thoughts. However, the soldier's neck refused to crane down and risk the possibility of acknowledging the red staining his legs and hands.

The anger hadn't faded. It still burnt through him painfully, attacking the knot of pain in his chest without mercy. _Why isn't it gone!?_ Jean demanded of himself. He brought his hand up to his chest and clawed at the shirt material covering his heart, leaving an imprint of his curling fingers in scarlet.

Vaguely, he thought about escaping. The titan's growling and the sounds of battle hadn't faded so he couldn't have forgotten his circumstances if he tried. Jean was outside the Walls, outside protection. Hell could await him back inside but death was sure to follow if he stayed. So he started to trudge.

The thief was dead. That bastard was gone and would _never_ tarnish the world with another step. But Jean couldn't figure out what that meant to him. There...Th-There were too many things to think about, so he forced them aside.

 _But what am I doing now_? questioned the insistent voice in the back of his skull. It refused to hide no matter how many times Jean tried. He didn't want to face the future. Heat welled up behind his face, threatening the stone.

Jean jerked to a stop and he hand shot up to cover his mouth and suppress the emotion bubbling up but then he felt something sticky touch his skin. He threw off his hand in revulsion and gagged, spluttering between sickness and despair at the blood.

His legs shook tremendously. He needed to move but the moment he lifted his leg he knew it wouldn't hold his weight for much longer. Jean froze and tensed his muscles, keeping them rigid to avoid collapsing there and them. His lungs, his heart, his head. They all pounded with such a ferocity it sounded like he was in the middle of his own personal rainstorm. Jean breathed erratically, soon realised he was stuck. He couldn't walk. He couldn't do anything; he was frozen in fear.

No...It wasn't fear. Jean couldn't think of a word. It was more horrible than fear, fuelled with knowledge instead of the unknown.

He shook again, but this wasn't his disobedient body. Another shiver rattled his body. It crawled from the ground, up from his feet and through his spine. Jean's brown eyes shifted as though through sap until they froze on the source of his fear.

A six or seven metre tall titan hobbled over to Jean with its greedy mouth ajar and dripping, its hair like patches of straw atop rolls of spare skin.

Jean's mind screamed at him to activate his ODM gear or at least run, yet the only movement was the minute flapping of his lips as he repeated his mantra repeatedly in a frightful mania. "I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed..." His body felt incapable of doing anything other than shaking.

"I'm going to die." Jean knew it to be true, but as soon as he physically voiced the thought his fear seemed to disappear. Similarly to how water can be so cold it's warm, it had reached the point where Jean could hardly process it anymore. That bastard was dead; he couldn't hurt anyone else in future...so at least Jean had done something.

Every second or so the ground would jolt, indicating another sure step towards his own death. Jean gazed downwards at the surplus of blades sheathed in his borrowed equipment. With a grimace he reached down for one. He was going to die no matter what he did. If he could evade the titan, it would be the soldiers. If he could evade the soldiers, it would inevitably be the hunger; he couldn't go back to the Military Police. Not after all this.

Jean found himself appraising the different methods. Between being eaten, being stabbed or being shot, the last one sounded the most painless but he knew he would have time to either get a gun or get arrested before the titan got him. Jean shook again but this time it wasn't because of the titan's monstrous strides. H-He did _not_ want to be eaten. The mere thought, combined with the handprint of blood around his mouth, brought him to the brink of throwing up again.

The shade grew blacker and a ball of panic squirmed inside Jean's throat. His hand darted out a fumbled around for the steel, praying his thanks for the Scout's decision to give them many. He grabbed the one of the blades and pulled it into the air. The ashen-haired soldier paused for a single moment but quickly levelled the blade above his stomach just as the titan's shadow engulfed him.

In his last few seconds, Jean turned his mind to his mum. The idea of her living out her normal life in Trost seemed like an almost-impossible for Jean to grasp by this point. He had had that life once, but now it was laughable. So much so that a burst of sick laughter actually escaped Jean's lips. _I'm hysterical,_ said his mind while Jean continued to laugh softly. _What a week I've had. Well...See you soon, Marco. I'll blame you when I get there._

A great hand reached down with the low moan of a titan and Jean made his decision, raising the blade...

There was a massive sound of slicing and rain, like a cloud exploding. Jean's head snapped back and the titan collapsed. A burst of adrenaline shot his body out of its path and he leapt just as the titan fell like a sack of meat. It hit the ground with a wet thud and the air around it instantly began to steam with its alien blood. The cloud of mist swirled upwards from under Jean's feet and billowed into his face on its way, sticking down his hair with sudden beads of sweat.

He stared at the dissolving titan incredulously; the blade in his hand came close to dropping out of surprise. Its leathery skin peeled off the scarlet muscles as they in turn crumbled along with the cracking bone. Its destruction was unlike anything of nature. It was returning to air and water as if it had never been material in the first place, but it must have been because they had killed so many people. It was too strange to think about.

"What the hell..?" His question was answered before he had the time to finish his sentence.

There was another sound – a quick, slicing gust – and a sheen of metal appeared under Jean's neck. He didn't risk moving but the blade's wielder was kind enough not make him ask again.

Keeping the sword's edge close to the younger soldier's throat, Commander Erwin Smith stepped into Jean's view. His face was set with frigid inexpression but his bushy eyebrows formed a line of animosity across the Scouting Regiment's leader's face. His blue eyes were unforgiving and just as analytically searching as before. He had the face of someone who Jean could not fool, and when confronted with the blood-drenched young man wearing a uniform not his, there were no signs of mercy tracing the elder's expression.

"Lower the weapon," Smith began in a deep, orderly voice. With a blade pressed to his skin, it didn't even cross Jean's mind to disobey.

"I'll ask a few questions," Smith continued. Jean couldn't even gulp so personally he thought the notion of him responding was pretty idiotic.

"What are you doing here, Mr Kirschtein?" Jean's eyes widened and he automatically went to lie but Smith caught him far too easily. "I know who you are. You are already under suspicion for one murder, so answer me: what are you doing here?"

Jean clenched his fists and refused to speak, choosing to look away instead. He wasn't going to provoke him but there was no point in giving himself away without a need.

"Remaining silent will not do you any favours. I am fully aware of what you've done, young man. I know you are not a member of the Scouting Regiment and I know you infiltrated this event illegally."

"So what?" Jean finally asked, forcing his voice not to betray the storm of thoughts raging on inside his skull. "This event wasn't some important mission. It's just some farce!"

Smith glanced away to catch another glimpse at the Wall in the distance. The corners of his mouth twitched strangely. "That's an interesting theory. Too bad it's untrue."

"What?"

He met Jean's eyes with an abrupt patience, as though Jean was a schoolchild slow on the uptake. "I daresay this is one of the most important missions in recent history." The patience, however, was not pure; there was a conspiratorial edge to it. "The public _must_ know of the danger the titans pose to humanity. Without that fear driving us, we would too easily fall to the wayside and give up hope. Give up on the cause. That cannot happen."

His face hardened again. He hadn't removed the sharp edge from Jean's skin. "Which is why I cannot let any interferences go free. Although a death is unacceptable. A murder is far worse."

Jean clenched his eyes shut. "Then kill me already and get it over with!" he snarled.

The Commander didn't comply. "If it was that simple then I would not have killed that titan just then."

"Then what..?"

"You are very talented with the ODM gear. You were able to manoeuvre across a flat field with apparent ease. That is not something just anyone can do."

To be honest, Jean hadn't thought about it. The only thing he'd cared about was following his target. He had paid little to no mind of his surroundings on the way there. The brunette scowled. "So you want me to, what, join your Scouts? There's no way in hell I'd support you morons. That's a death sentence!"

Erwin's lips stopped twitching and gave in until they had curled into an actual smile. He retracted his hand and his blade along with it. With short movements, each one making a beeline for the next, the blonde sheathed his weapon.

"So you're in agreement."

Jean had to swallow back his fury. He glowered into the Commander's eyes but the Scout's gaze was frighteningly calm.

"Murder is a death sentence, Mr Kirschtein. Your life belongs to me. You could join the Scouts, use your time to fight for humanity and take back territory from the titans, or I could kill you right now." It was probably Jean's imagination, but Smith's eye became regretful for those words. "Which one is it?" he wondered, resting his hand on his box of sheaves.

The overwhelming urge Jean had had to die only minutes ago had dissolved all along with that titan's carcass. The sense of self-preservation he'd kept close throughout his training against the future-Scouts like Eren had returned full force. Jean muttered something inaudible to Erwin. The older man could have easily guessed what he'd said yet he went ahead and asked again.

"Which one is it?"

Jean's fists tightened, his fingernails digging into his palms painfully so he wouldn't lash out at Smith. The words came out with the ease of eating rocks. They grated on his throat as they went. "Fine," he snapped.

Erwin's expression lightened, as though Jean's response _hadn't_ been because of a threat to the younger's life. "Very well." He turned seemingly without caution and prepared to shoot off on his ODM. He cocked his head in the direction of the Wall, indicating for Jean to follow.

The ashen-haired soldier was tempted to stay put. With his panic gone, Jean's faith in his abilities had returned. He might be able to take on a titan if he was life this...

"Do not forget, Kirschtein," Commander Smith piped up without looking back, "your life is _always_ in my hands."

* * *

 **I know this chapter's shorter than the others but I think this was the right place to stop.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you all for reading! :D**


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